


Binary Accretion

by HeartOfStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassins, Blood and Torture, Dark Leia Organa, Family Bonding, Family Issues, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, How many family tags are we including here, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Sith Leia Organa, Violence, but they have to get there first, the skywalkers just have issues okay, will eventually be a Skywalker family story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfStars/pseuds/HeartOfStars
Summary: Binary Accretion: the theory that the Earth and the Moon were formed from the same substance. Depending on the version of the theory, this substance could have been an accretion disk of the sun, a nebula, or even a black hole.AKA, the AU in which Luke Skywalker is a secret agent for the Rebellion, trained under Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Leia is an assassin for Darth Vader. The problem is, none of them know that they're related, and Leia doesn't even know her name.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 161
Kudos: 234
Collections: Chaos Twins vs The Establishment





	1. Vader's Assassin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! This is my latest fic, which has been in my head for the last couple weeks; and with my break from Family Finds A Way, I finally had the time to put my ideas together into the beginnings of what is looking like a VERY long fic. Because of Family, I'm not going to be updating it a lot right away, after the first few chapters, but eventually we'll get there.  
> Thanks to SpellCleaver for sending me Dark!Leia ideas, and LadyVader23 for help with the basic ideas. 
> 
> Warnings: This fic is rated Mature for no reason other than the violence, but believe me there's going to be violence because of graphic murder and some torture(both on the Empire's side of things). I'll warn when chapters get really bad, but just assume that for every chapter, especially at the beginning here, there's going to be some violence. For the bad ones, again I will give warnings, and summaries at the end of chapters.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…there was chaos. 

Jedha had once been a sacred place, a holy site for pilgrims seeking guidance, for wanderers seeking peace. It had been a place full of rich history, a relic of the old world...a last remnant of the age of the Jedi. 

Now, it was a place of massacre. 

The innocent citizens of Jedha City, who moments had been lining the streets, going about their business, perhaps some stopping by the ruins of the Church of the Force, now ran screaming, throwing themselves out of the way of the wave of blaster bolts that came like hail behind them. Some hid in alleyways, others ran into their own houses; but there was no escape. Stormtroopers, soldiers of the Galactic Empire, followed them everywhere, pouring into every hideout and place of refuge, determined to carry out their one objective: death. 

There were Rebels in their midst, and no one would be spared. 

“Save us!” one woman screamed to the sky, as if expecting the heavens to pour open and rain down fire. Desperately, she clutched her children close to her side. “Help! Please, _help me_ \--”

Her back burst open in an explosion of blaster fire. 

The carnage continued across Jedha City, innocents falling in puddles of their own blood in the streets, clutching loved ones to themselves. The entire time, even as they fought for their lives, they screamed for help...but no help came. Only more death. 

And still the Stormtroopers were not finished. 

They moved on, relentless, across the city, pouring into every crevice and hiding place, determined to accomplish their mission...because none of the dead were Rebels. 

Rebels did not die screaming. 

The Stormtroopers did not know much about them; all they knew was that they did not go down without a fight. And they were looking for one in particular. 

More screams followed. The Empire’s soldiers were numb to them all; they poured further into the city, swarming it like roaches as they moved off the streets and followed their prey into houses and hovels. 

Two troopers in particular moved silently up the walls of a house, finding a window just as it was closed by an older Twi’lek male. He shouted, slammed it down; they blasted it open and poured in. The Twi’lek was dead in moments; a further scream echoed down the hall, and they knew that it was his family. 

The Stormtroopers looked at one another and nodded. Then they proceeded silently into the house. 

There were no further sounds, but they knew what they had heard; there was a woman, and at least one child. In a house like this, a Twi’lek would not live alone. The Stormtroopers moved through the corridors, past trivial items: child’s toys, wall frames, old furniture. None of those meant anything to them. They had one singular goal--death--and they paid attention to nothing else. 

Another whimper up ahead; once more, the troopers looked at one another. The room on the left. Silently, they turned into it. 

A Twi’lek woman was kneeling on the floor, her hand pressed firmly over her son’s mouth; he would have been somewhere around six years old. 

That didn’t matter either. 

The woman’s eyes shot wide as they entered, she reached for her blaster...it was just out of reach, and she did not want to leave her son. Desperately, she stood up, pressing her back against the wall. 

It was time for death.

The Stormtroopers raised their blasters. 

And behind them, two shots echoed. 

Confusion was the first feeling to reach them; confusion, and then pain, that spread first across their backs and then their entire bodies. Someone had shot them, and they couldn’t do anything about it. They stumbled forward, swayed backward, and fell. 

Behind them, Saw Gerrera lowered his blaster rifle. 

The woman gasped, and the look of terror on her face turned to one of joy. “Gerrera! We were told you--we heard--”

“The Empire has not killed me,” Gerrera said in his characteristic rasp; he wore a pressurized suit now, an unfamiliar sight to most, but he was the same man he had always been: an aggressive warrior for justice, but a warrior all the same. “Far from it.” He looked over his shoulder. “There is a transport waiting for all survivors of this massacre. Take your child and go!”

“Thank you,” the woman gasped, stumbling forward with her son. As she went, Gerrera picked her blaster up off the floor. 

“Take this,” he said. “You cannot be unarmed in these uncertain times.” 

She nodded again, took the blaster, and hurried out of the room. Gerrera waited for her to leave before taking one look around the room. No further enemies here; he turned to follow. 

Outside the room, a blaster shot echoed. 

Fear struck Gerrera; he knew he should have followed immediately. Running hurt him, in his current condition, but he ran all the same. Hopefully it had only been the woman--

He rounded the corner into the dining room. The woman lay dead, the child screaming; Stormtroopers stood around them, a deadly circle of six. 

“No!” shouted Gerrera, running forward; but in moments the child was dead too.

So much life, wasted--and at the hands of the Empire. They were only two more, just two more lives lost, but there had been _enough_ bloodshed. Gerrera’s lungs burned, but his rage was stronger. With a roar, he raised his blaster rifle and fired; by the time the troopers turned on him, he had already gunned down two. One turned to fire at him; he ducked and took down two more. They had taken so much life, spilled so much blood; he would spill some in return. 

In minutes, all the Stormtroopers were dead. 

Breathing hard, Gerrera lowered his rifle and turned to look at the woman sadly. She was a Twi’lek, but she reminded him of Lyra Erso all the same; she had been afraid, but she had been ready to die defending her child, and she had done so. 

But this time the child had not lived. 

Gerrera’s hatred for the Empire burned in him as he turned to leave; he wanted to find more Stormtroopers to kill, more blood to shed, but for the moment he must save as many people as he could. After that, he would have his revenge. 

He dragged in a breath through his mask and turned to leave. 

“I knew I would find you here,” came a voice like death behind him. 

Gerrera whirled. The figure in black had appeared suddenly, as if out of thin air; but he knew it was not so. Most likely, knowing her, she had been hiding in the rafters the entire time. 

She stood still for several seconds: a small, lithe figure clothed in a uniform of all black, including the cloak that fanned out like wings behind her. And then, of course, there was her face, or at least what he could see of it: an iron mask half hidden under the cloak’s hood, painted silver and ending in a gaping mouth, like death come to swallow up another soul. It was almost impossible to tell if there was even a face behind this horrifying mask; but if Gerrera looked closely, he could see two yellow eyes gleaming at him. 

She stood like that, staring at him, those yellow eyes piercing into his soul; she had wanted to kill him for a long time, he knew. 

_The feeling’s mutual,_ he thought grimly.

“At last,” Gerrera said, raising his rifle. “You have come to meet death!” 

She still had not moved. 

He _wished_ she would, wished she’d do anything but _stand there,_ but _now_ was his opportunity, an opportunity he had waited years for. He raised his blaster and fired. 

The bolt never struck. 

Inches from its target, it...it had _frozen in midair._

Gerrera stared, almost unable to believe. 

The yellow eyes held his gaze for several seconds; other than that she was completely still. Only her eyes commanded the bolt to freeze...and then, her head dipping slightly toward the ground, the bolt dropped. 

Real fear shot through him now. He fired again, over and over, desperate--

Movement. His eyes hardly followed it; the movement had come so quickly, a blur of black with a hint of red; she had leaped into the air, faster than a snake, higher than a bird--

Gerrera could do nothing. He was knocked over by the force of her; he landed on the floor, his blaster flying from his hand. 

No. No, this could not be how it ended. He had promised Galen that he would meet him...that he would find Jyn…

He had to find Jyn…

“No,” he said; his mouth felt like mush. Blood trickled from his lip. He tried to sit up, reach for his blaster--

_Snap-hiss._

Above him, a red blade was lit. 

Now he was shocked. He had not thought that anyone but Darth Vader used _that._

“No. You--”

The blade buried itself in his chest. Pain shot through his entire body, the fire of the blade’s strike spreading through him...and then there was nothing. 

With a last gasp, Gerrera went limp. 

“I do not meet death,” his assassin said to his body. “I bring it.” 

She extinguished her blade. 

Then, as Stormtroopers continued to kill outside the house, she leaped swiftly up to the rafters and slipped out the window to climb up to the top of the house. There she stood, silent, for several moments, watching the chaos.

Below, in the alleys of Jedha, the carnage was slowing, the screams fading; the Empire’s massacre was over, the word spreading that Gerrera was dead, at the hand of the Empire’s assassin. At last the streets, which had minutes before been teeming with life and excitement and culture, were silenced and transformed into a river of blood. 

The assassin watched, utterly silent, a figure of black, the mask of gold hidden behind the hood of her cloak. Then she turned, apparently satisfied, before melting back into the shadows. 

  
  


Lightyears away, across the galaxy, the moon of Yavin 4 was home to a small portion of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Sunlight filtered through the trees sheltering the Alliance, birds flew overhead, leaves fluttered down from the trees; and far above, beyond the atmosphere, beyond the horizon, several tiny dots could be seen. They were X-Wings, flown by Rebel pilots in practice drills. 

A small figure, sitting on top of one of the lookout towers and swinging his legs idly, looked up at the X-Wings, the look in his blue eyes longing and wistful. He wanted to be up there; he _needed_ to be up there. He belonged there, in the cold blue of space, where nothing mattered but him and his ship--and his droid, if he ever was assigned one--and he was under no one’s direction. Where it would be only him and the sky. When his X-Wing appeared in the sky, everyone would know it was him--they would feel relieved, knowing that their hero had arrived--

“Luke!”

Luke Skywalker blinked, ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair, and looked down. Someone was calling his name. 

“Luke!” It was Biggs, his childhood best friend; Biggs, who got to be a pilot when he did not. Luke tried not to be jealous to his face. “Hey, what are you doing up there?”

“I like the view,” he shouted down with a grin. 

“Well, get down here! One of my wingmates needs you.” 

Another customer. Besides flying, Luke also happened to be skilled as a mechanic. That was fortunate, because at least he had a job doing _something_ that he liked; and it was unfortunate, because it meant that he was needed day in and day out to fix pilots’ ships. 

And it was torturous, because he had to fix ships he _wanted_ to be flying. 

Still, he knew he had to help. With a sigh, Luke turned round and scurried down the lookout tower, grabbing quickly at the handholds he’d used to get himself up in the first place. As it was, he was going so fast that he missed the last one--with a squawk, he fumbled at the tower, grabbed nothing, felt a brief rush of panic, and dropped the remaining meters to the ground where he landed in a heap. 

Behind him came the sound of laughter. 

His head was killing him, and at least three limbs ached, not to mention his back; but all the same Luke sat up and turned to glare at Biggs. 

“Oh, shut up,” he snapped. 

“I can’t help it,” Biggs said, grinning. “It’s just--” Putting a hand to his stomach, he struggled to get his laughter under control. “Okay, okay. I’m good.” 

Luke looked up at the sky. “Oh, _sure._ ” 

“No. Serious, I promise.” Biggs held out his hand. “Come on, kid, let’s go.” 

Rolling his eyes, Luke took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. “Stop calling me that, I’m not a--”

“Luke!” 

Luke froze in surprise. “What is it _now?_ ”

“You’re pretty popular all of a sudden,” Biggs said. 

“Yeah.” Luke snorted. “I wish.” 

They turned around; striding toward them was Bail Organa. Immediately, Luke knew things were serious...but at the same time, he tried to act confused. 

Biggs couldn’t know that Luke actually knew Organa much better than he let on. 

“Senator,” he said in faux surprise. “It’s--it’s a pleasure.” 

“It’s excellent to--” Organa’s eyes drifted toward Biggs. “To know that you’re such a skilled mechanic. We’re in need of one.” 

“Of course, sir,” Luke said, suppressing his curiosity. Obviously, something had happened, and they needed him; maybe for something _big,_ this time. But answers would have to wait with Biggs there. He waved to his friend. “See you, Biggs. Sorry about your wingmate.” 

“Oh, that’s all right,” Biggs said with a chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you if he knows what you’re up to. We can find another mechanic.” He frowned at Organa. “If you don’t mind me asking--”

“I do, unfortunately,” Organa said with a sigh. “We’re simply in need of a mechanic, and young Skywalker is the best on the base, so I’ve heard.” He gave Biggs a small smile, and now Luke knew that things were really serious. Usually, the senator was in the mood to make small talk, even in a tense situation. “Don’t worry, I’ll return him soon enough.” He turned around. “Follow me, Skywalker.” 

Luke gave Biggs a shrug and hurried after Organa. The tall senator walked quickly, and Luke almost had to jog to keep up as they sped through the base. 

“Senator,” he panted. “Senator, what’s--”

“No questions yet, Luke,” Organa said. “Let’s get there first.” 

Disappointed, Luke fell silent. However, after they passed beyond the testing grounds and into the Great Temple, he felt Organa’s hand squeeze his shoulder. 

“It’s good to see you, Luke,” the senator said. 

Luke looked up at him with a grin. 

“Good to see you too, Bail,” he said, and Organa rolled his eyes. 

“I am not a fan of you calling me that,” he admonished Luke, “ _especially_ not when anyone might hear. One would think you _wanted_ to be found out.” 

But he was smiling gently. 

“What’s this about?” Luke asked quietly. “Something awful happened, didn’t it?”

Just like that, the smile dropped. Yes, something terrible really _had_ happened; Luke knew it in the Force, even without the dark look on Organa’s face, and dread began to pool in his stomach. He’d been excited before; he was _always_ excited at the idea that he might be needed, that they’d let him in on a bigger mission this time, that he’d save someone really important. But this...this spelled tragedy. 

“You’ll find out the details from the Council, but…” Organa sighed. “I might as well tell you. Come here.” 

After giving a quick look over his shoulder, Organa pulled Luke into a small room and flicked on the light. Inside, a pilot and a member of Intelligence were in the middle of a passionate kiss; they pulled away and turned crimson. Organa glowered down at them. Quickly, they scurried out, and Organa shut the door firmly. 

“Young fools,” he muttered under his breath, before sitting Luke down in a chair. “Now. You know how terrible our situation is; you know the terrible things that have happened before.” 

Luke nodded. He knew. 

“This is worse.” Organa took a deep breath. “The Empire found out that Saw Gerrera was on Jedha.” 

The temperature dropped. Luke shook his head. 

“I knew he shouldn’t have gone to Jedha,” he said. “You tried to tell him--”

“Luke,” Organa said gravely, and Luke stopped talking. “That doesn’t matter, because the people of Jedha City have been massacred, and the Empire has officially taken control of the planet. They…” Organa sighed heavily. “They are hunting for kyber crystals; they need them, for something. Your mission...has to do with that.” 

That should have been exciting; his _mission_. But Luke couldn’t find it in him to ask. The story wasn’t over. 

“And...and Gerrera?” he asked carefully. “What happened?”

But he already knew. He felt it instantly, before Organa spoke. The Force screamed grief, and despair, and terror. 

“Killed,” Organa said. “By the Angel of Death.” 

The Angel of Death. 

The temperature went even colder. 

Luke knew the name: the Angel of Death, Darth Vader’s personal assassin. Not that Vader himself wasn’t terrifying; but he was terrifying in a _different_ way. When Vader showed up, you knew before he had arrived; you heard the breathing, felt the temperature drop, felt your heart stop in your chest; and even then there was no guarantee that he would kill. Vader was unpredictable. Perhaps he would torture instead, decide to prolong the suffering; and that was no better. But at least there was some variety. 

With the assassin, there was no variety. She was nameless, faceless, without a purpose but to kill, and only to kill. When she appeared, there would be death. 

The Angel of Death was more famous than Luke, by far; he doubted she even knew about him, and it had been kept that way on purpose. He was skilled in the Force, but not skilled enough; if she knew about his escapades, if she found out, she would kill him. Without a second’s hesitation. Of course he knew who the Angel was, he’d spent the last year making sure he was nowhere near her. 

But this changed things. 

She had never killed someone so crucial to the Rebellion, with such power, such prestige, as Saw Gerrera. Certainly, he had been an extremist; but he had still retained his usefulness to them. And in the end, his goals had been noble. 

Luke had met him once, a year ago, and he had been nothing but kind, and grateful to Luke for what he was doing. 

And she had killed _him._

Suddenly Luke didn’t care how powerful the Angel of Death was, how terrifying; suddenly he wanted to kill her, even though it would probably get him killed. Suddenly he wanted to _do something._

He set his jaw. 

“Take me to the Council,” he said.


	2. The Starling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke meets the Council for the first time to receive a special mission.

Organa’s Council always met, typically, in the cavernous hall at the west end of the Temple. It only took a few minutes to walk there, but it still felt too long. Jedha was taken, the City’s inhabitants massacred, the Empire was mining kyber crystals...and Saw Gerrera was _dead._ What did that mean for them? What else was going to happen now? 

Who _else_ was the Angel of Death going to kill? If she’d been able to kill Gerrera--

Suddenly afraid, Luke turned to look at Senator Organa 

“Is everyone here?” he asked quietly. 

“They...should be,” Organa replied. “Luke, don’t worry about feeling inadequate next to these people. I’ve told you this before. You’re young, and eventually you’ll--”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Luke shook his head. “Forget it.” 

Organa looked concerned, but said nothing more about it; a few more steps and they had arrived, coming to a stop in front of the large door. Luke was about to move forward when he heard voices. 

“--don’t understand why we can’t make a move now,” a male voice was saying angrily. “Jedha’s officially under the Empire, they’re doing something there; this is going to lead to something, trust me. In my experience--”

“We can’t move, not yet,” said a second voice, this one female. “We are still a fledgling Rebellion. You know, as well as I do, that the Empire is searching for us, that it will _crush us,_ if we dare to attack openly. This is why we keep you hidden, why we keep the Starling hidden; we can’t do anything. Not yet.” 

“That _is_ correct,” said a third voice; this one was male, and this one Luke certainly knew. “But while we cannot reveal yourselves, we also cannot sit back. We have sat by for too long while the Empire killed and tortured; the time for that is past. We must do something, if only on a smaller scale. And that is why we are sending in…” 

Silence. Luke looked up at Organa. 

The senator smiled and nudged him forward. 

“We have a guest,” came the voice. There was the sound of footsteps moving toward them, and then the door was flung open to reveal a man Luke knew very well. He looked older than ever, the red in his beard almost completely eclipsed by white, and his face was haggard and weary; but the spark in his blue eyes was still as strong as ever. 

“Ben!” Luke exclaimed, and without caring what anyone thought he ran forward and threw his arms around the aging Jedi. 

“Ah--hello, Luke,” said Obi-Wan Kenobi a bit stiffly, as if surprised by Luke’s demeanor; and suddenly, Luke realized that he was hugging his master in full view of the rest of the Council, most of whom he had idolized ever since joining the Rebellion, and some of whom he had never met before now. 

“Uh...sorry,” he said, pulling back in embarrassment and running a hand through his hair. “Um--”

“Luke, it’s quite all right,” Obi-Wan said with a chuckle. “It’s good to see you, too.” He ruffled Luke’s hair and then, taking his arm, led him into the room. “And here is the boy in question.” 

Luke looked around the room, which was _much_ fuller than usual. Mon Mothma stood in her usual place, at one end of the table in the center of the hall; Bail Organa, edging past Luke, moved to greet her. To Mothma’s left was a tall general who Luke had met only once--General Carlist Rieekan--and he offered him a small smile, which the general did not return. Several others stood there; Luke didn’t know any of them, and he moved closer to Obi-Wan’s side. There was a Twi’lek, several Mon Calamari, and two more humans. 

“I’m sorry.” One of the humans turned to look at Luke. He was maybe ten years Luke’s senior, with dark skin and a thin beard; and he looked none too pleased with Luke’s presence. “But what is he doing here?”

“He,” Obi-Wan said, “is my Padawan.” He sighed. “Luke, this is Cassian Andor.” 

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Luke said, feeling a bit shy and extremely like he did not belong. _He_ hadn’t heard of this Cassian before now; why did Cassian need to act so superior? All the same, it would do to be polite. 

“But why is he here?” whispered Cassian, as if Luke wasn’t right there. “I understand that he is your...Padawan, and I do not mean any disrespect, but we are discussing extremely classified information. If he tells anyone--”

“You think _I’ll_ tell someone?” Luke cut in. He could take being doubted, but if anyone thought he was going to just blab Alliance secrets, they were dead wrong. “I don’t know who think you are, but--”

“Luke.” Obi-Wan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Think first.”

Luke nodded slowly. His master was right, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want to fight Cassian later. 

“But why _is_ he here, Obi-Wan?” asked Rieekan. “Where is the Starling?” 

Obi-Wan’s expression hardened. He looked over his shoulder, toward the doors that were locked, then leaned forward. 

“ _He_ is the Starling,” the Jedi said firmly. 

Silence. Clearly, everyone in the Council was shocked. 

“My--my apologies,” said Cassian. “I spoke too soon.” 

Obi-Wan looked down at Luke; Luke shrugged off the hand on his shoulder. He could be polite without his master telling him to be. 

“It’s all right,” he said with a smile. 

“But--but Obi-Wan,” said Mothma, “he is so _young._ ”

Luke crossed his arms, insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, I meant no offense,” she said quickly. “It’s just...a surprise. This is who we’ve been sending on missions over the past year?” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, and I would encourage you to treat him with the utmost respect. He is the _only_ reason we have been able keep this fledgling Alliance from complete decimation by the Empire.” 

Luke flushed at the praise, but that was quickly eclipsed by sadness at what Obi-Wan said next. 

“Besides, he has only been training under me for four years. He was...kept from it all his life, by his guardians, until the day when they perished in an attack; fortunately I arrived in time to save him, and trained him until he expressed interest in working for you. That he has done, with all the meager training I have been able to give him.”

Luke bowed his head, grief and horror overwhelming him at the memories; the situation had been much, much worse than Obi-Wan had told the Council.

_“...and we’re taking the boy with us!”_

_Rough hands around his arms, and he’s fighting, but the attackers are too strong; they force him to his knees._

_“No!” His aunt’s scream will stay in his nightmares forever. “Not Luke!”_

_Uncle Owen does more. He staggers to his feet, fighting off the arms around him and running toward Luke--_

_Shots ring out, and Luke screams--_

“My sincerest apologies, then,” said Mothma, snapping Luke out of the awful memory. She was smiling, and Luke decided he liked her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, then...Starling.” She frowned at Obi-Wan. “What’s his name?”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan smiled. “I’m afraid that that part is still classified.” 

“Well…” There was a knowing glint in the Rebel leader’s eyes. “He looks extremely familiar. Have I seen him somewhere before?”

“Oh, not him precisely,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “But someone like him.” 

Mothma smiled. “Of course.” 

Luke was extremely confused, but he’d learned by now that he would receive faster answers from Obi-Wan if he waited. If he asked and pestered him, the Jedi Master would become amused at Luke’s growing irritation and continue to give cryptic answers, or no answers at all. 

“I see.” Mothma turned to the plans that were drawn up. “Now, I believe we have something very serious to discuss. Luke, I don’t believe you know, but…”

“He does,” said Senator Organa. “I gave him the short version.” 

Luke fumed silently. Why couldn’t anyone let _him_ talk, instead of saying everything for him? 

“Well, then.” Mon Mothma looked somewhat uncertain, as if she were unsure of what to say. “It seems that we have quite a terrible situation on our hands.” 

“Indeed,” said Rieekan. “A massacre at the Empire’s hands. A secret weapon under construction...and worst of all, Gerrera dead, and at the hands of Vader’s assassin. What course of action do we take next?” 

“I don’t know,” Organa said, “but we must do _something._ The Angel of Death has killed before, but...this time is different. This time, she specifically targeted a Rebel leader, albeit a...radical one.”

“How do you know it was on purpose?” Obi-Wan asked him. “Why wasn’t it an accidental encounter?” 

Luke found himself losing track of the conversation, eyes flitting quickly between each person as he or she spoke. For his first Council meeting, this was going so much faster than he’d thought; as soon as a question had been solved, someone found something wrong with it and raised another question, one that hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

_Boy, do I have a lot to learn,_ he thought. 

“No one witnessed the kill,” Organa replied. “But some of our intel suggests that the entire massacre took place because Gerrera was on Jedha. The assassin went for him on purpose. And that means…” 

He trailed off. 

Luke frowned. What did it mean? 

“That means she could do the same to any of us,” Mothma said, and Luke’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t considered _that,_ but now that he thought about it, it seemed obvious. “She could simply decide that one of us needs to be killed, and hunt us down.” 

That seemed to silence the group as a whole. They stood still, the information clearly weighing on their minds, probably wondering if one of them was next. 

For once, Luke was glad the Angel of Death didn’t know he was the Starling. 

“Then this is what we need to find out,” Obi-Wan said. “Does the Empire have a plan? Are they after the Alliance as a whole...or one person in particular? We need to know this, and we need to know it as soon as possible.” He turned to smile at Luke. “This is where you come in.” 

Immediately, Luke’s hope soared. He knew he was getting sent on a mission, he’d wanted a chance to do something, make the Angel aware of him, but he hadn’t realized--he hadn’t dreamed--

“I’m going after the Angel of Death?” he asked eagerly. 

To his dismay, Obi-Wan shook his head. 

“ _No,_ Luke,” said his master. “Our policy regarding your secrecy still stands.” He looked around the room. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes, Obi-Wan,” said Rieekan. “He’s done wonderful things for us--” _Still_ they were talking about him like he wasn’t there! “But he is a boy, and the Angel of Death…” He shook his head. “She is too dangerous.” 

Luke’s heart sank. “But, Ben, I--”

“No,” Obi-Wan said again, and then his expression softened. “I’m sorry, Luke. When things get especially dire, you’ll take action, but now...you’ve had four years of training, and unfortunately, due to our situation, it has been sporadic.”

“And, furthermore,” said Mothma, “should we be going after the assassin at all?”

“Oh, we definitely should,” Obi-Wan said. “Bail and I at least are in agreement on this.” 

“Correct,” said Organa, stepping forward. “We can’t allow this monster to come after us; her, or her master.”

Mothma frowned. “Do you think Vader would do that?”

“No,” said Organa, and Luke frowned; he sounded so certain of Darth Vader’s movements, which was odd, because Luke didn’t think he knew the Empire’s Enforcer that personally. “He will arrive only if the Empire’s situation grows too dire. But the assassin…” He shook his head. “There’s a reason they call her the ‘Angel of Death.’ No one has met her and lived.”

“Until now,” Obi-Wan said. “Luke is not yet fully trained--although he is growing stronger--but there is another asset who might be able to do the job.” 

“Surely, Obi-Wan, you aren’t talking about yourself,” said the Twi’lek, a pretty, green-skinned young woman not too much older than Luke himself. 

“No, Numa,” he said with a smile. “Even I am not that arrogant.” He looked at Organa knowingly. “I’m talking about Ahsoka.” 

Luke’s eyes widened. He’d never met Ahsoka Tano, but he’d heard about her, mostly from Obi-Wan; the rest of the galaxy thought she’d perished in the Clone Wars. For the most part, Obi-Wan spoke about her sadly, but also with great respect; even without meeting her, Luke knew she was a great warrior, who’d survived many situations that should have killed her. 

Immediately, everything made sense; of course Ahsoka should go after the Angel of Death. Obi-Wan was skilled, but he was getting too old; and if Luke wasn’t going to do it, then Ahsoka was an obvious solution. 

“Ahsoka.” Mothma stroked her chin. “I haven’t heard from her in ages. Is she doing all right?” 

“She’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, “and more than willing. She’s also not one of us, technically speaking; as far as I know, the Empire doesn’t know she’s alive.” 

Organa frowned, and Luke immediately knew another secret conversation was taking place. He clenched his fists angrily. 

_“No one_ in the Empire knows she’s alive?” asked Organa. 

Obi-Wan nodded, and once again that knowing glint was in his eyes. “ _No one,_ Bail.”

Organa heaved a sigh of relief, and again Luke wished people would just _tell him things._ “Then she should be safe.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

“Then, Master--” Luke cleared his throat; the conversation had drifted toward something else. “If Ahsoka’s going after Vader’s assassin, where do I come in?”

Obi-Wan smiled at him. 

“Since you asked, I’m not even sure I should tell you,” he said. 

_Oh, come on,_ Luke thought at him fiercely. _You can’t do that to me! I’m sure everyone else wants to know, too._

 _I’m sure they could be patient, unlike a certain someone else,_ Obi-Wan sent back at him; his Force voice was only slightly different than his real voice, a bit lighter, without all the weariness. _But just this once, I will oblige you._

“But I will,” he said; the Council didn’t even react to the brief silence. Maybe they were used to Obi-Wan having conversations with other people inside their heads. “Just this once, because it’s very important; but you must understand, because of Luke’s important position, this knowledge does not leave this room.” 

“Duly noted,” said Cassian, and the rest of the Rebels murmured in agreement. 

Luke tried not to lean forward in anticipation. It was difficult. 

“Luke--or, shall I say, Starling,” Obi-Wan said, “while Ahsoka hunts down the Angel of Death, your mission will be to go directly into the Intelligence headquarters on Cato Neimoidia and find out who, if anyone, the assassin plans to kill next. You’ll leave tomorrow morning.” 

That was not nearly as exciting as he’d hoped for; his missions, as small-scale as they had been, had all involved saving someone, at least recently. This...this was just a glorified spy mission. 

But Obi-Wan was staring at him pointedly, and Luke figured he had sensed his reluctance. 

“Uh...all right,” he said, forcing a smile. “I won’t let you down.” 

Then, abruptly, he turned to go. 

“Luke, wait!” Obi-Wan called after him, but without a glance at anyone else, Luke had stormed out of the room. 

So much for first impressions. 

  
  


The doors opened and slammed behind him; Luke barely paid any attention. A spy mission? Really? He’d saved civilians for them! He’d stolen supplies for them! And yet, now that they knew the great Starling was just a _kid,_ they were too afraid to let him do anything. They hadn’t said it, but he had the Force. He’d sensed it. 

_I bet the Angel of Death is just a kid too,_ he thought stubbornly, even though he knew it was a stupid idea. _They’ll pull off her mask, and she’ll be just as young as I am._

“Luke!” 

Behind him, the door opened and shut once more; but Luke recognized Obi-Wan’s voice, and walked faster. 

“Luke, slow _down.”_

He kept walking.

“By the Force, Luke, stop and listen to me!” 

With a heavy sigh, Luke stopped and turned slowly around. 

“What?” he demanded. 

Obi-Wan blinked, as if he’d just realized something. He looked alarmed. 

“What was that about?” Luke asked. 

“Ah...nothing,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “You just...remind me too much of your father sometimes.” 

Luke knew it was difficult for his master to talk about his father; it was a painful subject for him. So, out of spite, he asked. 

“How?”

Obi-Wan stared at him in exasperation; and then he sighed. 

“Don’t do that to me, Luke,” he said wearily. “I know it’s on purpose. I know you’re angry, and it’s _all right.”_

Luke frowned. “It is?”

“Yes. I don’t say this enough, but…” Once again, he sighed. “Anger is a path to the Dark Side, but it is also a natural emotion. It must be worked through, not shoved aside as…as the Jedi used to teach.” 

Luke nodded. He knew not to ask. Besides, he was starting to feel awful about it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I shouldn’t have said that. And…” He looked back toward the doors he’d stormed out of, hot embarrassment flooding him. “And I definitely shouldn’t have left like that.” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Maybe not.” 

Luke looked up at him. “Are they angry?”

“Not angry,” he said. “Some of them are confused. Some are sad for you; others, I would rather not say.” 

Luke’s heart sank further. “They don’t like me.” 

“I never said that,” Obi-Wan told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Luke, listen to me. They do _not_ dislike you. They...they simply need time to adjust. It’s surprising to them, the Starling being a child. They had begun to think of you as a great warrior.” 

Luke cocked an eyebrow. “And I suppose you led them on?”

Obi-Wan sighed a third time. “Slightly. And that is my fault.” 

“All right.” Luke looked down, suddenly unable to meet his master’s eyes. “I’m sorry for that. I just wish I could do more.”

“I know you do. And I know that you are strong in the Force. But…” There was a gentle hand on his chin. “Luke, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, he looked up. To his surprise, there was untold sadness in Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

“I do _not_ want to lose you,” his master said softly. “Not the way I lost Anakin.” 

Luke nodded slowly. He’d figured Obi-Wan was being protective, but to actually hear it...it was annoying, and at the same time, it was nice. For four years he’d been on the run with the Alliance, barely having time to make any new friends; and in all that time, he hadn’t had anyone who could fill the role that Uncle Owen had filled. Even Uncle Owen hadn’t completely done that, either. 

And now Obi-Wan was the closest thing to filling that role. 

The role of a father. 

Luke didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly he was hugging Obi-Wan again, arms wrapping around the older man’s waist to bury his face in the rough fabric of the Jedi’s cloak. 

And this time, Obi-Wan was less hesitant to respond. They stood there for several moments, master and apprentice, hugging each other in the middle of the corridor. 

“Oh, Luke,” he said, pushing him back after a few seconds. “I confess, I...I’m not the teacher you deserve. Nor am I anything close to the father you should have had.” He smiled. “But I will do my best both to instruct you, and to keep you safe.” 

“And…” Luke sighed. “I’ll try to accept what you tell me, Master.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “It’s a relic from a world that failed. Call me Obi-Wan; or, worse yet, call me that ridiculous name you insist on calling me, only because it’s how I was introduced to you.” 

“Okay, Ben,” Luke said with a grin. 

Obi-Wan sighed. A fourth time. He must really be getting to his master today. 

“Return to your apartment, and run through your forms,” Obi-Wan told him. “What if I were to actually teach you something more today?”

Luke’s grin stretched wider. That was incredible. 

“That’d be great,” he said. “See you!” 

“I’ll see you,” Obi-Wan said with a laugh. 

Waving farewell, and with most of his worries behind him, Luke sprinted away down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I was busy this week. Next time we get back to the Empire!


	3. Master And Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both Vader and Obi-Wan are dealing with things.

Mustafar was the closest thing in the galaxy to hell. 

A burning world of fire, rivers of lava, black earth, and unholy temperatures, it was not a planet anyone would travel to willingly, unless by absolute need. The only use it had ever had was as a mining world, or a place to manufacture weapons in secret; but even that had been more common in the days of the Clone Wars. Now, there was hardly any need to travel to Mustafar. 

And besides, there was another reason why no one went to Mustafar. 

Ever since the beginning of the Empire, Darth Vader had dwelt there in an obsidian castle that loomed over the rest of the hellish planet. 

It wasn’t all the time; the Emperor’s heir was often away on some sort of mission for the Empire, and most of his time was spent on the _Devastator,_ or else on Coruscant. But when he was not in either place, he returned to his castle on Mustafar to hone his skills, to check on the Inquisitors, and to get the only rest he ever received. 

And it was here that the Angel of Death, his personal assassin, reported to him. 

Vader did not care for her; he did not care if she was injured, did not care about her methods. He only cared that she succeeded. But he made sure to treat her as well as he could without investing any emotion in her well-being; if she believed that she was mistreated, if she thought she might stand to gain a better opportunity, she might betray him for the Emperor. 

And that, above all things, he did not want. 

Vader waited, suspended in the tank, for the moment she would arrive. He would know it when she arrived; he did not need Vanee to tell him of _that_. He would sense it in the Force; because, in the Force, the Angel of Death was the most powerful being he had encountered. It was why he had such faith in her...and why he despised her. She was everything that he should have been, and more. Palpatine harbored a secret desire to turn her away, to use her talents for his own benefit, that he knew; but Vader could not let that happen, for obvious reasons. When she served the Emperor, he would be dead. So, as much as he loathed her for her abilities, those abilities were also the reason why he was still alive. Her success was his success, and vice versa. 

Admittedly, tolerating her was easier ever since she had won over the other Inquisitors and officially become his assassin, ever since he had commanded her to wear a mask in his service. He could not bear to look at that face for a moment longer, and forevermore he imagined that the face underneath that mask was not greatly similar to the face that had haunted his dreams for seventeen years. 

It burned, to look at that face; it was a greater pain even than the constant pain that he had lived with, and he knew that Palpatine had done that on purpose. He had scoured the galaxy, had hunted down a child who looked so much like _her,_ had made sure that the child was brimming with potential; had, possibly, even meddled with the competition so that she would be sure to win. 

If Palpatine could not have the assassin, he would make sure that her very existence was a constant torment to Vader. It was done to make sure that Vader was angry, of course, as he must be; but that did not make the hurt any less painful. 

Why, Vader wondered, could she not at least have been a boy? 

There was a flash of recognition, the sudden appearance of burning power at the edge of the world, and Vader knew it immediately; and in an instant, he was yanked out of his bitter musings to face the task at hand. 

His assassin had arrived. 

  
  


His lungs burned, his joints ached, his armor weighed heavily on him; and, worst of all, he felt _trapped,_ the suit pressing in, enclosing him, shutting him out from everything else until he was left alone with himself. This was his reality each time his prosthetics were attached, each time he was put back in the suit. He had always thought he would grow used to it; but he had not. It gave him constant pain, both psychological and physical; and the only good that it accomplished--if it could be called that--was increasing his anger. 

Well. The environment of Mustafar, the reminder of just why he was in this suit, and the constant presence of the Dark Side also helped with that. 

Despite the pain, Vader marched quickly across the castle to his receiving chamber; as of yet, when he arrived, his assassin was not yet there. And now he faced a second decision; should he sit? There was a chair built specifically for him, one suited to hold his weight, while he waited for guests; but he rarely used it, due to the fact that such a position hurt him more. 

But if the assassin were to be overconfident today, if he were required to...reprimand her, perhaps it would be best for him to be angry. 

He sat. She was still not there. 

One second passed. Then, as if by magic, she had appeared before him, standing straight and tall, the gaping mouth aimed directly at him. 

Of course, it was not by magic. Vader had seen her leap up to the rafters, climb silently across the ceiling, and then drop down through the mist. It was a trick he’d taught her; with her small size, it was easy for her to move quickly and without sound.

(He had taught it to someone else once as well, someone around her same size. But he refused to think of that time.)

He allowed himself to sit for several seconds, letting his pain build, increasing his anger; he felt it, and in return, he felt her anger; in contrast, standing was more uncomfortable for her, given the ancient wound in her left leg. They were both angry, and they were both alone. 

“Was your mission a success?” he asked at last. His booming voice echoed across the room, and _anyone else_ would have been terrified. 

The assassin didn’t even flinch. 

“It was,” she said, her voice flat and quiet, subdued and emotionless. She was a machine, an instrument; emotion would have been a sign of doubt, and he was glad that there was none. “Gerrera is dead.” 

Her hands moved up, to her mask, and panic stirred in him. 

“Keep that on,” he snapped. 

Immediately, her hands dropped back to her sides. She didn’t say anything; she never spoke, unless there was need of it. She was a perfect servant of the Empire; some might have called her a slave. 

That was the third reason Vader despised her. 

“Go on,” he said, calmer now that he knew he would not have to see _that face._

“He died immediately,” she said, a hint of confidence entering her voice. “It was an easy kill.” Vader clenched his fists, and she must have felt his rising anger, because when she spoke again, her voice was again devoid of emotion. “As for Jedha, the people have been subdued, and the Empire’s project is moving swiftly.” 

“Good,” Vader said, although he did not give a damn whether the construction of the Death Star succeeded or failed. What mattered was that the people were subdued, and the Empire’s hold over Jedha, once a place of the Jedi, was secure. “You have performed well.” 

The assassin knelt. “Thank you, Master.” 

The use of _that word,_ in addition to his constant pain, was too much. Vader rose to his feet and approached her where she knelt. 

“You have a new assignment,” he said. 

The assassin lifted her head, and he felt her surprise. But she said nothing. 

“It is not the Emperor’s wish, this time,” he said, making his voice as soft as it could be with that damned vocoder. “It is mine, and mine alone.” 

She knew what that meant. She was loyal to him alone; so that meant that even if he wanted her to kill the Emperor, she would have to do it. 

One day, he thought. Not yet; but one day, that _would_ be her mission. 

“You have killed Saw Gerrera,” Vader said, and the fact that he knew what Gerrera looked like, what he sounded like, the fact that he had once known him personally, meant nothing to him. “The Rebel Alliance will be afraid...but not afraid enough.”

“I need to kill the next target,” the assassin said. 

“That is perceptive, Assassin...for you. Yes, you do.” Vader walked across the dais, gathering his thoughts. Surely his Master would scold him for attempting this, for turning his attention away from...more important Rebel leaders, but he would do it. The assassin would succeed; and she must, because the target was someone who, unbeknownst to her, was very important. “But there has been a slight change of plans. The list has been altered.” He stopped in front of the assassin; and then he projected a single thought at her mind. 

One thought, so that not even the Rebellion’s probe droids would pick it up. 

He had not detected any, but he could take no chances. 

The assassin’s half of their bond sparked; she understood. 

“Do it,” he rumbled. “Do not fail me.” 

The assassin looked up at him, her eyes meeting his directly; that, Vader did not mind a glimpse of. Yellow eyes belonged only to the Sith. 

And in hers, he detected what was almost a spark of defiance as she gave her reply.

“Have I ever?” 

  
  


“No, hold your saber up, a little further.” 

“Like that?”

“No, arch your back slightly...yes, like that.” Happiness. Pride. “Now...attack.” 

When Obi-Wan found Luke Skywalker, it had almost been too late. 

For thirteen years, he had been kept from seeing the boy; he’d kept an eye on him from a distance, but Owen Lars, having an idea what had happened to Anakin Skywalker, had utterly forbidden Obi-Wan from coming close to his nephew at all. Beru had been a little more open to it, but ultimately, she understood her husband’s fears and wanted, above all things, for Luke to grow up without fear. 

For thirteen years, she’d succeeded. 

Then she and Owen had refused to pay Jabba’s water tax. 

It wasn’t the first time they had done it, either; Obi-Wan hadn’t gotten much out of Luke regarding that particular time, but he did know _that._ And Jabba, having grown furious at them, had sent some of his men to exact it from them by force. 

They’d refused, once again; Owen Lars’ stubbornness was not reserved just for Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was reserved for everything, period. 

And then he’d paid for it with his life, and with Beru’s...and Luke had been taken as a slave.

Obi-Wan had felt the boy’s pain, his grief; but…

_Running. He hasn’t run like this in years, he’s getting too old; he can feel his body tiring fast. But it doesn’t matter, because for once in thirteen years, his skills as a Jedi are called upon, his oath to protect that boy is called upon, and he must protect him._

_Leia has been gone for six years._

_Leia has been dead for six years._

_Luke is the only hope they have left--_

_No. Burning, the homestead is burning; Obi-Wan drops to his knees in the sand._

_Owen and Beru lie dead amidst the smoke. One of Owen’s hands reaches out, as if attempting to grasp for…_

_Luke._

_He is not yet dead._

Help me, _screams through the Force, the energy field the boy does not yet understand._ Help me! 

_They have taken him._

_They have taken Luke._

_He is too late._

Obi-Wan had gone after Luke immediately, in a desperate hunt across the sands of Tatooine; he had barely stopped, barely rested at all, for seven days. And when he reached him, he was just in time; Luke had just been sold to a Trandoshan slaver. 

A fight had broken out, one in which Obi-Wan almost died no less than four times; but it had been worth it. 

Immediately after, Obi-Wan had taken over every aspect of Luke’s care; he’d brought him back to his hut, and later, had taken him off Tatooine with the help of a smuggler, who might have been slightly mind tricked. 

Luke had been safe. 

But that did not mean he hadn’t suffered trauma; that had still meant a week spent in the hands of Jabba the Hutt and his goons, a week spent receiving verbal and physical and psychological abuse. 

That time was behind them now...but Obi-Wan had never forgotten it. 

He had never forgotten how close he’d come to losing Luke forever. 

Luke seemed to have put it behind _him,_ though; despite the occasional nightmare and triggered memory, it was as if that horrible week had never happened. He’d been training as a Jedi for four years, in the service of the Rebellion for three, and Obi-Wan knew that he wanted more. 

But he could not forget the terror in Luke’s eyes when he’d found him. He couldn’t forget how thin and haggard he’d looked, couldn’t forget the bruises across his face and the way Luke had trembled and been on edge for weeks and even months afterward. He had experienced things, in that one week as a slave, that he had never told even Obi-Wan. He may have forgotten it, but Obi-Wan never would. 

A blue flash in the corner of Obi-Wan’s eye reminded him to let go of the memories, of the fear, and to parry his Padawan’s attack. Even so, he only beat him back just in time. 

_Either Luke is stronger,_ he thought, _or I’m much weaker._

_Probably both._

“Getting old, are you?” Luke teased him, his blade--his father’s--pressing against Obi-Wan’s. “Gee, Master, one would think you hadn’t fought in yea-AH!”

He was cut off as Obi-Wan flicked his wrist, sending Luke’s lightsaber spinning.

“Not even the strength of young age can compare to the master’s expertise,” Obi-Wan said as Luke, red-faced, went to pick up his lightsaber. “Luke, you know what I’ve told you about overconfidence.” 

“I know, I know,” Luke said, sounding a bit petulant. “I should’ve been able to block that.” He ignited his blade, an eager grin on his face. “Again?”

But Obi-Wan shook his head. “No more of that. You need your strength for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Sure.” Extinguishing the blade, Luke flopped down on his bed. “Like I need to be strong for that. All I’m doing is sneaking around!” 

_That_ attitude would not do. Anything might happen to him. 

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, hoping Luke understood. 

“Right,” Luke said, deflating. “No overconfidence.” 

“Precisely. And that is why we are not done training yet.” Obi-Wan sat down, as much as it hurt his aging bones, and crossed his legs. “Sit down with me. I’d like you to meditate.” 

“Oh, fine.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help smiling slightly as Luke stood up; he knew how much his young prodigy disliked meditation. It was too quiet for him, and that part of training had always been the hardest for him. 

Still, Luke did as he asked. “What do you want me to see?”

“I do not _want_ you to see anything,” Obi-Wan said. “Remember?”

“The Force will guide me,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan nodded. “I need to reach out and embrace it; if I’m calm, it will show me what I need to know.” 

“You are learning well, Luke,” Obi-Wan said. 

What he did _not_ say was that Luke should have known this at least six years ago; he had just turned seventeen, and any of Obi-Wan’s Masters would have told him that Luke was too old. 

But most of them were dead, anyway. 

Without another word, Luke closed his eyes, shifting on the floor; Obi-Wan tried to reduce his presence in the Force, as much as he could, so that Luke could concentrate. 

_Let him do it,_ he thought. _If the Force wills it, please…he has struggled with this so much...  
_

Several seconds passed. Still there was nothing, still Luke fidgeted; Obi-Wan resigned himself to the fact that it was not going to work tonight. 

Then, Luke’s presence _soared._

Obi-Wan smiled, feeling a surge of pride; he was so strong, almost as strong as Anakin had been in his prime, and Obi-Wan simply sat back and allowed Luke to meditate. 

He hoped the Force would show him nothing. If so, it meant the mission would go well. 

Seconds passed, and then they turned into minutes; and still Luke continued to embrace the Force, to dwell in that center of peace, and calm, and joy; and still Obi-Wan waited, his gaze ever fixated on Luke’s face. 

Then Luke gasped. 

Obi-Wan leaned forward, worry shooting through him, as Luke’s eyes opened. 

“What is it?” he asked. “What did you see?” 

“I...I saw…” Luke swallowed several times, eyes darting around the room as he was reacquainted with his surroundings; and Obi-Wan grasped his arm in an effort to ground him. 

Slowly, Luke’s blue eyes focused on him. “Bail Organa’s in danger." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but the next one should be longer! This is the end of the set-up, now we start getting into things :D  
> 


	4. Secrets Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke departs with Numa, his escort, for the spy mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the Clone Wars references in this chapter; I just had a chance to watch season 7 and it ruined me. No season seven spoilers, but there may be in the future. For those who don't know, Numa is a Twi'lek who Obi-Wan encountered as a little girl during the Clone Wars, and Ahsoka Tano is Anakin's former Padawan.

Luke didn’t sleep well that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw what he’d seen in the vision: Bail Organa, pulling a blaster out to defend against an unseen threat, pleading with his enemy...stabbed through the heart with a blood red lightsaber. 

The dawn came too soon, and he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep. But the moment his alarm went off, Luke was out of bed. 

Whatever he could do on this mission, he would do it. 

He was not going to let Senator Organa die. 

On the desk beside his bed his usual attire for missions was laid out: green trousers with a matching jacket, a brown cloak, and boots. This time, however, in addition to the clothing, there was a small waist pouch. Curious, Luke opened it; it included a tool that looked like it would be useful for unlocking doors, a small scanner, and...gloves. 

Luke frowned. Gloves? 

Well. This _was_ a different type of mission. 

Just as he’d finished getting dressed, the door opened, and Biggs entered. 

“Hey,” Luke protested, quickly doing up the last button on his trousers. “Do you _knock?”_

“Oh,” said Biggs sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “It’s all right. What is it?”

“I just wondered if…” For the first time, Biggs seemed to notice what he was wearing; his eyes narrowed, and with a flash of alarm Luke realized that Biggs had never seen him in this. Usually he dressed on the way to the mission, for secrecy’s sake. “What are you _wearing?”_

“Oh, uh…” Luke racked his brain for an excuse, but it was difficult; this wasn’t exactly standard mechanic’s gear, after all. “Well...I just...I just thought--”

“Oh, never mind,” Biggs said, seeming to shake it off. Luke tried not to look relieved. “But I’d suggest changing out of that before you head down to breakfast.” He chuckled. “You look like a pirate.” 

Luke looked down at the outfit and scowled. It was supposed to make him look inconspicuous, but he supposed that on a base where people already knew him, he’d just stand out more.

“And the food’s going to run out.” Biggs frowned. “You haven’t been getting breakfast lately, anyway. Come down and eat, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll--I’ll be down,” he lied, edging toward the window. “Just a minute.” He forced a smile. “Let me...change out of this first.” 

“Sounds good.” Halfway to the door, Biggs looked back. “See you in a minute.” 

Luke held his breath as his friend disappeared out the door, looked over his shoulder _again,_ and walked away. 

Then he was gone. 

In an instant, Luke had shut the door, grabbed the pouch, opened the window, and pulled the hood of the cloak over his head. He lived on the third floor of the Alliance-issue apartments, but with the Force, it wasn’t a problem. Quietly, he climbed onto the ledge outside, shut the window, and dropped to the ground. 

Once there, he looked around, making sure that no one was watching; to his relief, the coast was clear. He attached the pouch to his waist--Force, that felt awkward--before running off to where he knew the shuttle was waiting. 

  
  


The shuttle--an Imperial shuttle, probably to help get him where he needed to be--consisted only of Numa, one of the least famous members of the Council and, therefore, the only person who would be safe accompanying him. Luke didn’t know her very well, but he smiled anyway. 

“Hello, Luke,” she said. “Are you ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. 

“That’s good.” She smiled. “Obi-Wan?”

“I’m right here,” said the Jedi, emerging from the shadows behind Luke.

“I know, I know,” Luke said, rolling his eyes. “It was another test, I need to get better at recognizing your presence.” 

“Yes, you do,” Obi-Wan said, “but it wasn’t a test.” He looked at Numa. “Is everything ready?” 

“Ask him,” Numa said with a shrug. “You’ve been watching the whole time. Nothing’s happened in the ten seconds since Luke showed up.” 

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. “Cheeky, little one.”

Numa chuckled. 

“Well, then.” Obi-Wan turned to look at Luke. “You’re wearing the pouch we gave you?” 

“Yes,” Luke said, “but I have to ask--”

“No.” Obi-Wan cut him off sharply. “We can’t risk it here, it’s too dangerous.” He shook his head. “This mission we are sending you on, Luke...it’s incredibly risky.” 

Luke sighed. “It’s a _spy mission.”_

“All the more reason to be careful.” Obi-Wan placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Listen to me. You _cannot_ take this lightly. The Empire’s security regarding secret plans is far greater than anything else you will encounter; they’ve killed spies simply for arriving at any of their bases...or worse, they’ve tortured them.” 

Luke’s eyes blew wide; it had never occurred to him that he could be interrogated just for that, but now that he thought about it, it seemed logical. 

“Well,” he said, his heart racing, “I’ll...I’ll be careful.”

“Make sure you are,” Obi-Wan said. “Because, beyond your own well-being, if you fail...many more members of the Alliance will die.”

“Yes,” Luke said quietly. “I know.” 

“Obi-Wan, stop frightening him,” Numa said. “He’s capable. He’s done this stuff before, hasn’t he?” 

“Yes, but...not nearly to this extent. He is stealing from the Angel of Death _herself._ If the Empire were to find out...if the _Angel_ were to find out…” Obi-Wan shook his head. “It would be catastrophically bad.” 

“But…” Luke thought about something to say, something else that would reassure his master. “That’s why we’re sending…” What was the name? 

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan finished for him. 

“Yeah. That’s why we’re sending Ahsoka after the assassin, right?”

“Yes, that is why,” Obi-Wan said. “She is, perhaps, the _one_ Jedi in the world who is capable of fighting Vader’s assassin without danger; but even then, it is not only Ahsoka. She has with her two dozen Rebels, including the captain she fought with during the Clone Wars. But, never forget, Luke; the Angel of Death is very strong with the Force. If at any time she senses you during the distraction, not even Ahsoka Tano will be able to stop her from coming after you.” His expression hardened. “Do you understand?” 

Luke nodded slowly, at last beginning to realize what he’d gotten himself into. “I understand.” He clenched his jaw, not wanting Obi-Wan to think he was afraid; he _wasn’t_ afraid. “I won’t fail. I’ll use your teachings, I’ll get the information, and I’ll succeed. I promise.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment longer with that frightening intensity; and then, finally, his expression softened. 

“I believe you,” he said. “Remember what I have taught you, rely on the Force...and you will succeed. And I am sorry, but I...” His hand tightened on Luke’s shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you the way I lost your father.” 

Glancing between them, Numa’s eyes widened. 

Luke nodded. “I know.” 

Obi-Wan stepped back. “I also want you to check in at these points: when you arrive, and when you have succeeded.” 

Luke made a face. 

“I mean it,” he said. “This is an incredibly dangerous assignment.” 

“All right,” Luke sighed; he hated checking in--setting up the equipment took _so long--_ but his master was clearly rattled. “I’ll check in, I promise.” 

“Good.” At long last, Obi-Wan smiled. “Then may the Force be with you.” He walked towards the ramp, raised his hood, and turned around. “May the Force be with us all.” 

Then, without even a final wave of farewell, he was gone. 

  
  
  


“Well,” Luke said. “That, uh...that went well.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Numa said. “He’s just worried for you.” 

“Yeah…” Luke kicked the floor idly. “I know. But now...now I…” No. He didn’t want to voice his concerns to Numa; she might not think he was good enough for the mission. “No, never mind.” 

Numa raised her eyebrows, but said nothing more about it. “Come on, let’s go.” 

She walked toward the cockpit, and Luke followed; at the sight of all those levers and buttons, his fear began to vanish. So far Numa wasn’t showing any signs of sitting down...she’d let him go first…

Then she sat down in the pilot’s seat, and his hope vanished. 

However, the Twi’lek seemed to notice. “Don’t be disappointed, Luke. I need a co-pilot.” 

With a sigh, Luke sat down next to her. The engines began to hum, the ship to vibrate; and then, at last, they took off into the atmosphere. 

A comforting presence wrapped around him; Obi-Wan. As Numa steered the shuttle gracefully into space, Luke turned to look back at Yavin 4. It looked so beautiful from up here, so green and lovely...and somewhere on the surface, his master was watching him leave. 

_The Force is with you,_ Obi-Wan’s mind-voice said. _Never forget it._

A moment later, they jumped to hyperspace, and the connection vanished. 

  
  


Far below, on Yavin 4, Obi-Wan stood staring up at the sky, a pang of sadness striking him as the shuttle disappeared into hyperspace. Luke was gone now, and he had to trust the Force. 

_The boy is strong,_ he told himself. _You have trained him, and he is a Skywalker._

But maybe the fact that he was a Skywalker would prove ill for the mission…

“Obi-Wan.” The Jedi turned his head to see Bail standing beside him. “You look troubled.” 

“To say the least.” Obi-Wan turned to look at his friend. “I’m afraid for him, Bail. So many things could happen to him on this assignment.” 

“As they could have the last five times,” Bail said. “Have some faith in him, my friend! He’s the Starling; he’s your student, he has the Force, and he’s succeeded before.”

“He has...but this assignment is more dangerous than most.” 

“Hmm.” Bail stroked his chin. “Will he check in, do you think?” 

“He’s Anakin’s son,” Obi-Wan said wryly, “so no, he won’t.” He sighed. “It was worth a try.” 

Bail laughed. “It was indeed.” He shook his head sadly. “I can’t help but think...if Leia were still alive…” 

“She would be with him,” Obi-Wan said. Leia’s fate had been terrible, and he had never seen it coming. He hadn’t thought that the Empire would actually kill their senator’s seven-year-old child, but then...then he’d been too late. “She would be with him, without a doubt. But he will have to do the work of two.” 

“And I don’t doubt his ability to do it--”

“If that’s you trying to make me feel guilty,” Obi-Wan said, “don’t. I do believe him...but I also see more.” 

_The vision._ Suddenly, he remembered. 

“Speaking of which,” he said slowly, “there is something I believe I should tell you.” 

Bail frowned. “Which is?”

Obi-Wan looked around before speaking, making sure that no one was listening.

“I don’t know how accurate it is,” he said quietly, “but last night, Luke had a vision. And…” 

Bail leaned closer. “And?”

Obi-Wan looked up at him. “Your life may be in grave danger.” 

  
  


“So,” Luke said, the blue of hyperspace whirling by around and behind and ahead of them. “What exactly is the plan?” 

“You’re entering an Imperial facility on Cato Neimoidia,” Numa said. “Ever since the end of the Clone Wars, the Empire has had a strong presence there; you’ll have to be careful.” 

“And how do I know that the list of targets is there?” Luke asked. 

“We don’t,” Numa said. 

“Oh! That’s just great.” Luke rolled his eyes. “So this could all be for nothing.” 

“That’s not likely, either,” Numa said. “All of the assassin’s files exist on record in this facility. It is designed for only her or Darth Vader to enter. But…”

“Because I’m Force sensitive, I can get in,” Luke said. 

“Right. Ahsoka got in once; that’s how we know the list exists.”

“Then…” Luke frowned. “Why didn’t she take it?” 

“Because she’s crossed paths with the Empire too many times,” Numa explained. “The second she got in, they knew she was there; the security system has some kind of identity recognition system.” 

“Then they’ll recognize me!” Luke blurted out. “The second I get in--”

“Just a minute,” Numa said patiently. “Let me explain the whole plan first, all right?” 

Hot shame immediately flooded him. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.” 

“It’s quite all right,” Numa said with a smile. “But let me start from the beginning. We’ll be able to get onto the planet because of this shuttle, and because of the Imperial clearance codes stolen a month ago. I’ll land in the designated spot; but before I land, you’ll have to jump out of the shuttle. They can’t find any Jedi aboard here, and they won’t know me very well; I even have some cargo in the back that I’ll show them if necessary. But you’ll be able to jump out, right?”

“Right,” Luke said, although he’d never done it from an extremely far height. 

“Then the facility will be dead ahead,” Numa said. “I’ll make sure to get us as close as possible; but it should be obvious. It’ll be a gigantic black tower.” 

“Oh,” Luke said. “That’s welcoming.” 

“Very,” Numa laughed. “There won’t appear to be a door; but, according to Ahsoka, if you immerse yourself in the Force for several seconds, the facility will open to you.” 

“Immerse in the Force, got it.” That was going to be difficult as well; meditation was one of the things he’d never quite grasped well. 

“From there, we don’t know what to expect; there may be guards, or traps set. But traps you can scan for, with the scanner, and guards...you have to dispatch quietly. No lightsaber.”

This was getting more difficult by the minute, but Luke nodded. 

“As for where to go, you’ll walk straight until you see a staircase. Take it up all the way, turn left, turn left again, and then you’ll appear to be at a dead end. It’s not a dead end. It’s another door that opens with the Force.” 

“I have to use the Force a lot for this,” Luke muttered. 

“Of course,” Numa said. “After all, only Darth Vader or the assassin ever visit there; no one else is allowed in, because, of course, this is the chamber with the assassin’s information. Once it opens, you’ll find yourself in a long room; it will look like a library. And this is the tricky part; this is the part that picks out your identity.”

“And I stop that with the Force?” Luke asked. 

But Numa shook her head. “No. Otherwise, how would Ahsoka have failed? No, this is what the small tool in that pouch is for. Upon entry, you’ll be scanned by lasers; to avoid them, stick that tool into a port in the wall immediately to the right. Turn it right, left, then right again; and then the lasers will go away.” 

“Right, left, right,” Luke said. “Got it.” 

“Next,” Numa said, “you’ll have to find the list, and you’ll have to do it quickly. According to Ahsoka, it is not in any of the compartments; it’s written down in the main computer, and…” She shook her head. “This could be risky.” 

“How?” Luke demanded. “How is it risky?”

“Because the assassin--and Darth Vader--can access this database from anywhere,” she explained, “so you’ll have to work fast. Put on the gloves first--otherwise the system will be able to identify you by your fingerprints.” 

Luke shook his head. Obi-Wan had been right; the security was _insane._

“Then you will enter in a code,” Numa said, “and--” She sighed. “This will be easy for you to remember, but...it might be hard to hear.” 

Luke frowned. “Why would it be hard to hear?” 

“Just--” Numa closed her eyes briefly. “You might have made this leap yourself, but Darth Vader set up the entire database.” 

“Okay, that makes sense,” Luke said, still trying to figure out what Numa meant. “It’s his assassin, after all, but...what do you--”

“All right, I’ll just cut to it.” Numa sighed. “The password is Amidala.” 

_Amidala._ As in, Padme Amidala. As in Luke’s mother...his mother, who Darth Vader had _killed._

It hadn’t just been his father; oh, no, Vader hadn’t been satisfied with that. He’d gone after Anakin Skywalker’s wife as well...he’d told her how he’d killed her husband, the gruesome way in which he had died, and then...then he’d choked her to death, slowly, relishing in her agony. 

Obi-Wan had seen it himself, he’d said; he’d been too late, had told Vader to stop, and he finally had. When she was dead. When her newborn baby, when _Luke_ was barely a day old. 

And now...now, it seemed, Vader was so cruel that he had continued to taunt her after her death. To take pleasure in the fact that he’d believed he’d wiped out the Skywalker line. 

Not quite, Luke thought, clenching his fists. There’s one more of us left. 

“Luke,” Numa said, interrupting his spiraling. He looked at her; her eyes were wide. “Don’t let this get to you.”

“I’ll let it get to me,” Luke growled, “by getting this list and taking out any--”

“ _Don’t,”_ Numa said, grabbing his arm. “Luke, this is a _stealth_ mission. Focusing on anything other than that list might result in the failure of the mission.”

Luke said nothing. He wanted to kill Vader. He clenched his fists further, staring into space. For him to do that…

“Luke.” Reluctantly, he looked back at Numa, whose eyes were wide. “Luke. You _cannot_ fight Darth Vader.” 

“Why not?” Luke realized that it made no sense, but he didn’t care. “I have a lightsaber, I’m Force sensitive--”

“Luke!” Numa’s voice was almost an octave higher. “You can’t! I’m serious, I’m beyond serious...oh _damn it,_ Obi-Wan warned me this would happen...you can’t fight him!”

“But I--”

“It _doesn’t matter_ that you have the Force, do you know how many Jedi Vader’s killed? Do you?” 

Luke didn’t say anything, but he had a good idea. Thousands. Thousands of Jedi.

“Exactly,” Numa said. “We’ve told you about the Angel of Death, you know how dangerous she is? Vader’s _worse._ Do you get that? I don’t think he’ll be there, but if he is--”

“I...won’t,” Luke said slowly. He wanted to fight Vader for soiling his mother’s memory like that, he _so badly_ wanted to, but Numa was...so afraid. “I’ll leave. I won’t fight him.” 

_Yet,_ he added silently. 

“Okay,” Numa said, looking more relaxed. “Okay.” 

For a few seconds, there was silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, realizing how badly he’d scared her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” 

“No--no, I understand why. I just...I had to make sure…” Numa shook her head. “Right. So, back to business. After you enter in the password--”

Luke clenched his fists so hard he drew blood. 

“Then you’ll be faced with the entire system of files, and you can’t look too hard through all of them,” Numa went on. “According to Ahsoka’s information, the list should be in a group of files labeled ASSIGNMENTS. Select that; and you’ll know it by its title.”

Luke frowned. “Which is?” 

Numa swallowed. “The Damned.” 

Luke blinked. He certainly hadn’t expected that. But given what Obi-Wan called Vader’s “penchant for drama,” and given the nature of the assassin’s existence as someone who arrived to bring victims to death...it made sense. 

“The Damned,” he said, trying to speak calmly. “Okay.” And that was curious; he frowned. “Hang on. If this Ahsoka Tano knows how to find the list, how come she doesn’t know what’s _on_ the list?” 

“Because this is the point where she stopped,” Numa explained. “She selected ASSIGNMENTS, saw the title of the file...and then the alarms went off. She had to leave.”

Luke nodded slowly. That made sense. 

“So,” he said, “I get the file, take it out of the system…” He paused. “Wait a minute. There’s nothing in the pouch for that.” 

“That’s because you’re not retrieving the file,” Numa said, a little sternly. “There isn’t time for that; and besides, the moment any information leaves the system, the Empire will know. It’ll give you away immediately. So…” She sighed. “This is where it gets tricky, because we don’t know how long this list is. I’d ask you to memorize it, but...you might not be able to. Just do what you can.” 

“Just find out who the top target is,” Luke said. 

Numa nodded. “Exactly. Find it out, report back to us before you leave...you know, just in case--”

“I get captured,” Luke said. “But I won’t. I promise I won’t.” 

“Well--”

“Yes, yes, I get it,” he said quickly. “And then I get out.” 

“And it’ll have to be _fast,_ ” Numa warned him. “It will probably be worse getting out than getting in. Ahsoka told me...well. It was rough. But it should be fine as long as no alarms go off. If they do, you’re dead.” 

Luke nodded, trying not to panic; he searched for something else to talk about. “How did _Ahsoka_ get out?” 

Numa chuckled. “Because she’s Ahsoka.” 

Luke shrugged; Obi-Wan, curiously enough, had never mentioned her to him. “Okay. That doesn’t mean anything to me, you know.” 

“Right. I forget how little you know.” Numa winced. “So sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s okay,” Luke said. Numa liked to apologize frequently, he realized. 

“Ahsoka...I probably shouldn’t tell you much. There’s a reason Obi-Wan hasn’t mentioned her to you; she operates secretly, out of the Empire’s eye. She’s had some run-ins with them occasionally, but other than that she’s remained a well-kept secret. Not even Darth Vader knows she’s alive.” Numa frowned. “That’s curious. I’m pretty sure the Emperor _does.”_

“Alive?” Luke frowned. “Oh, right, she’s a Jedi. But isn’t she younger?” 

“Yes.” Numa shook her head. “But even the Padawans were tracked down during the Purges….and Ahsoka was almost a fully fledged Jedi by the end of the Clone Wars.” 

Ahsoka Tano, a Padawan...who’d escaped the Purges. It was incredible. She must _really_ be powerful. He wished he could meet her--she might have known his father, and maybe even his mother--but given her position, he probably wouldn’t for a while. 

Not until he became more important. 

All the same...

“Could you tell me something?” he asked. 

Numa shrugged. “Sure. Depends on what it is, though.” 

“Did Ahsoka know my father?” 

Numa hesitated for one second. 

“Yes,” she said softly. “She...was your father’s Padawan.” 

Only four words, but they held more than Luke could ever imagine. He’d been with Obi-Wan four years, and that whole time he’d been hard-pressed to learn anything about the life of Anakin Skywalker. Clearly, Anakin’s death had almost destroyed Obi-Wan, and Luke had soon learned not to ask about it. But now...now he had another opportunity. 

Now, he had his father’s former Padawan. Ahsoka. 

Not just one, he realized with a glance at Numa, he had two. From the look on her face, Numa obviously had knowledge of the Clone Wars. 

“Wait a minute,” he said. “You talked to Obi-Wan like you knew him personally, like...from another time. And you know all this about Ahsoka. And then...then, does that mean--”

“Of course,” Numa said with a laugh. “I didn’t know your father as well as Obi-Wan--I actually only met him towards the end of the war--but I can tell you about him. What do you want to know?” 

_What do you want to know._ Luke had only dreamed of hearing those words. This was impossible, a dream come true…

Pick something, he told himself, just pick something…

But it was so hard when he wanted to know _everything._

“Obi-Wan said he was a great pilot,” Luke said at last. “Was there a specific instance...a battle where he won by his flying?” He winced. “I know that probably didn’t come out right, but--”

“Oh, don’t worry. I remember...Obi-Wan told me…” Numa smiled. “The first time following the battle of Geonosis when he realized what a great asset his student was for the war. It was over Christophsis, and the Republic was facing off against General Trench--”

With a whirl of blue, the shuttle emerged from hyperspace; and dead ahead lay Cato Neimoidia. 

Luke’s stomach churned. 

_"Say farewell to your life, Senator," says the Angel...her lightsaber pierces him through the chest..._

_Organa collapses dead on the floor..._

Please, Luke begged. _Please_ don't let it be Bail Organa...

Numa stopped, the smile fading from her face. “Actually, never mind.” She clenched her jaw grimly. “We’re here.”


	5. The Coming Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who catch it, there's a reference to The Clone Wars season 7.

It was time. 

Cato Neimoidia lay dead ahead. It was a green world, for the most part; brilliant green, covered with swirls of clouds. It looked like a paradise. But on that world, Luke would somehow have to sneak past Imperial security to steal a list that even his father’s former Padawan hadn’t been able to. 

He swallowed. He could do it. He knew he could do it. And yet…

“It’s going to be okay,” Numa said. She had stopped the shuttle for a moment, and there was nothing but concern in her eyes. “You’re skilled.”

“I’m too young,” Luke whispered. “You’re right, all of you are right. I know you doubt me, you think I’m too young to be the Starling, and until now all I’ve done are low-risk missions--”

“Hey,” Numa said, squeezing his arm. “None of that. I was four when the Separatists blockaded my planet. _Four years old,_ Luke. And somehow--I barely remember it--but somehow I managed to survive while my parents didn’t. Two clone troopers found me, and my inner knowledge of the city helped me lead your master’s entire battalion to victory. Everyone’s too young, a lot of the time; and if not that, then they’re too old.” She smiled. “You’re Anakin Skywalker’s kid. You can do it.” 

Her words brought Luke a warm feeling, a feeling of _belonging_ he hadn’t experienced before, from anyone on the Council, and he smiled. 

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks, Numa.” 

Numa opened her mouth as if to say something else, but a flashing from the comm channel interrupted them. 

“The Empire,” Numa said. “Remain absolutely silent.” 

Luke nodded and shrunk back into his seat, as if that would do anything. 

Numa pressed a button, and a clipped voice echoed through the comm channel into the shuttle. 

“Shuttle T-14769, do not deviate from your present course until we give permission. What is your clearance code?” 

Numa blinked, and for a moment Luke thought she’d forgotten it; then she spoke. 

“16-G-84,” she said slowly. “41-T-3-Z.” 

There was a moment of silence; then the Imperial responded. 

“That code is six days old,” he said. “What is your business on Cato Neimoidia?” 

“Delivery,” Numa said, sounding so business-like Luke almost didn’t believe it was coming from her. “I have some cargo that needs to be brought to warehouse C-14.” 

This time, the silence was even longer. Luke caught his breath; Imperials, as far as he’d learned, were distrustful of _everything,_ and he could just see them being blown out of the sky…

“All right, permission to land accepted.”

Luke released the breath he’d been holding, and Numa shot him a look. But he couldn’t help it; he’d be able to do his job after all…

“Proceed to the first entry point, behind the warehouse. Your shuttle will be inspected, according to the routine procedures, and then you will be permitted to stay for three-quarters of an hour.” 

Forty-five minutes. He had forty-five minutes. 

“Of course,” Numa said, and switched off the intercom. A moment later, they were moving forward once again, toward Cato Neimoidia. 

“Now, Luke,” she said after several seconds. “You know that they can’t see you. You remember what I…” 

“I’ll have to jump out before we land,” Luke said, trying not to feel terrified at the thought--he wasn’t afraid, he was _not_ afraid. Just nervous. Those two were not the same thing. “I know.” 

“You’ll be okay?” Numa asked. 

The shuttle was drawing closer to the planet. They were almost in the atmosphere. 

“Oh, yeah,” Luke said, trying to project an air of confidence. “You don’t even have to ask.” 

In response, Numa looked over at him and raised her eyebrows. 

“Luke,” she said. “It’s okay to tell me if you’re nervous.” 

“Nervous?” It was very difficult to try and sound disbelieving when really all he felt was panicked. If he told her...she might turn around! “What are you talking about? I’m just excited.” 

“Excited,” she echoed flatly. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, irritated that she was getting on his case about this, of all things. “I’m not nervous.” 

Numa sighed. “Have you even done it before?”

Oh, great. She was onto him. 

“Yes,” he said weakly. “I’ve...done it.” 

Numa raised an eyebrow. Oh, damn. He couldn’t lie very well at all, could he?

Luke sighed. “No. I haven’t done it.” 

Numa looked at him. 

“Not from _this_ level,” he said defensively. “I _have_ jumped from a high distance, just not...not from--”

“A shuttle in orbit,” Numa said. “I understand. But Luke...you don’t _have_ to do it. I can figure out another way. We can hide your lightsaber, pass you off as my assistant. You don’t have to do it.”

She was patronizing him. Whether she realized it or not, she _was,_ she was trying to make things easier for him because he was barely seventeen. 

“I do,” he said. “It’ll make the mission go more smoothly. You said so yourself.” 

“But--” 

“I can,” he said, fiercely. “Numa, I’m the Starling. And, at some point…” Luke took a deep breath. He would have to do a good job at lying, for once in his life, to pull this off. “Obi-Wan wants me to go on bigger missions. This is practice. Eventually, I’ll have to go up against the Angel of Death herself.” He clenched his jaw. “I’m a Jedi, and I’m Anakin Skywalker’s son. I can do it.” 

Numa stared at him for a few seconds. The shuttle passed through the atmosphere and into the clouds above Cato Neimoidia. 

“Okay,” she said at last. “Okay. I believe you.” She looked straight ahead, focusing as she began to steer them on a path down to the surface. “Then…” She looked back at him with a smile. “Then, Luke Skywalker, I’d suggest you get ready to jump. You’ve got a job to do.” 

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, but he ignored them. He was going to do it. 

He grinned back at her. “Okay.”

  
  
  


The shuttle continued on its course, and as Numa steered, Luke got to his feet. It was difficult to walk straight, with such turbulence around them, but he managed it; he made sure his lightsaber was clipped to his belt, he made sure the pouch at his waist was intact, and he looked outside the viewport. 

There it was, some meters in the distance: a towering black structure, more a fortress than a facility. 

All he had to do was land, get inside, get the information, and get out. Easy-peasy. 

Easier said than done. 

“It’ll have to be now or never,” Numa said. “I’ll open the lefthand doors. Ready?” 

“I’m ready,” he said, with a nod at Numa. The Twi’lek looked as nervous as Luke felt, but she hit the button all the same. 

Luke took a deep breath, bracing himself with one of the wall hooks. 

A moment later, the door slid open. Wind blasted into the shuttle, harder than he’d expected; he didn’t think he’d ever felt a wind going this fast. 

_“You can’t do it, you’re not good enough! Slavery is the only thing you deserve, boy.”_

Luke clenched his fists. He _was_ good enough. 

He looked down at the ground. He’d always loved heights anyway; and Obi-Wan had taught him to jump from a building once, eighty feet above the ground. _Trust the Force,_ he’d said, _it will be almost like flying. You can do it...but you must take the leap first. Take the leap into faith._

This could be fun. 

“Oh, no!” Numa shouted, as if she’d remembered something; afraid, Luke looked at her. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this; but the Alliance got hold of some Mandalorian jetpacks from the Clone Wars. I should’ve brought you one!” 

Numa looked more terrified than he’d seen her; she was regretting everything...but she didn’t have to. She was scared for him, and Luke was going to prove her wrong. 

He looked down, and fear sped through him. _No,_ he told himself fiercely, _fun. It’s going to be fun. I can do it._

“You were right not to bring one,” Luke shouted at her over the roar of the wind. “It’s like we said, right?” He grinned. “I don’t need one.” 

_No fear._

And then, without another second of hesitation, he gathered all his strength, through caution to the wind, and jumped. 

  
  


Several hours later, Obi-Wan calculated that Luke and Numa should have arrived at Cato Neimoidia; and still, there was no response for him. 

“Blast you, Anakin,” he muttered to himself. “Why he couldn’t have Padme’s logic, I haven’t the slightest idea.” 

_Leia did,_ whispered a voice in his head. _And she’s dead because of your oversight._

For four years, he’d tried to control the anger about his actions, that he should be training Leia and not her brother; that had been the plan. When the twins were old enough, he would train Leia and Yoda would train Luke. He’d done badly enough with one Skywalker male; he hadn’t wanted to risk another, and Yoda had been more than eager to train the boy. 

Then...everything had gone wrong. 

He could still remember the day as if it were yesterday, a day of looking over the Lars’ homestead, of watching the seven-year-old child, hair bright as the sun, play in the sand; and it had been quickly cut short by the incoming transmission from Bail Organa. 

_“Obi-Wan, come quickly!” Bail is gasping, panicked; something is wrong, horribly wrong. He’s already on his way to the bantha he succeeded in training. “We are under attack; you were right, my speech incensed the Empire--”_

_“Never mind that,” he says, swinging himself up onto the animal. “What is happening_ right now?” 

_“Our palace is under attack--they’re after Leia!”_

He’d ridden faster than ever before, gotten to Mos Eisley within minutes, and paid nearly everything he had for a ship to take him off-world. He had never been a brilliant pilot--he’d done fine during the Clone Wars, but when he had a choice, he’d always left the flying up to Anakin--but he flew better and faster than he had in months, in years. He knew it, he and Yoda had been wrong; either they should have left both Luke and Leia with Owen and Beru, or somehow found a way to place Leia under Yoda’s eye. Or they might have arranged to do something with Ahsoka; but for the first few years, they hadn’t even known she’d survived the Purges. She had appeared five years after... _Anakin’s_ death(and the rebirth Obi-Wan refused to think of), but by then she had other priorities. 

They should have placed Leia under a Jedi’s eye. 

That was the one singular thought in Obi-Wan’s mind the entire time. 

And it was the thought in the back of his mind for eleven years afterward...after he had arrived to witness the carnage, the burning of buildings and the screaming and wailing of Alderaanian citizens...the corpses lying in the halls of the palace, of servants and noblewomen and soldiers…Breha’s weeping…

And worst of all, the look on Bail’s face. 

Obi-Wan would never forget that look. It was the look of a man whose entire world had been destroyed before his eyes. 

He’d known it immediately. Leia was dead at the Empire’s hand. 

The worst part was that Vader had strangled her. Her _own father,_ the man who should have been tickling her and telling her stories and carrying her off to bed as she shrieked with laughter...he had killed her, strangled her with the Force…

And then the Stormtroopers had _taken her body._ The last straw. 

They hadn’t even allowed her family the dignity of burying her. 

It was the worst of fates, it was why Obi-Wan had become so protective of Luke...and it was entirely his fault. 

He could not lose Luke. 

_He could not lose Luke._

Luke was his father...but he was brighter. Better. More forgiving, more earnest, more open about his feelings. He would save the galaxy. 

But if saving the galaxy would kill him, Obi-Wan did not want it to happen. 

_If only he would check in!_

His comlink buzzed. 

Immediately, he picked it up, waiting for the sound of Luke’s sheepish voice apologizing for being so late. “Luke!” 

“Luke? I am most certainly not Luke, Obi-Wan.” 

A female voice, definitely not Luke; but one sorely missed, and one that Obi-Wan had been waiting to hear from as well. 

“Ahsoka,” he said with a sigh. “It is good to hear your voice. What is your status?”

“We’re closing in on Arorua,” she said. “About fifteen minutes until we come out of hyperspace.” 

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat. It really was happening. 

“And you’re sure she’s there?” he asked. “Absolutely sure?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” For such a pint-sized warrior, she was one of the most confident-sounding Jedi Obi-Wan had ever known. “Our spies are still there; they’re watching her exact position.” 

“Good.” He sighed. “Luke has not responded yet, but I’ll keep you posted on his position. You _must_ keep her distracted until he escapes the fortress, do you understand?”

“Perfectly. You don’t need to check these things with me, Obi-Wan.” She chuckled. “I’m not a Padawan anymore.” 

“Oh, I know.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help a smile. “But there was a time when you made incredibly rash decisions, when you complained about everything, and when you got yourself into scrapes so deep I had to come and save you.” 

“Of course. Don’t you remember who I was apprenticed to?”

Obi-Wan had to laugh at that, the first he’d done in...a long time. There was that sharp wit he’d missed. 

“Of course I do,” he said. “Now, don’t have too much fun on this mission. And if you need extra assistance…” 

“Call in. I know.” There was a slight pause. “And if I get a chance, do I have your permission to kill her?”

“Usually I wouldn’t give my word on this, but…” Something felt wrong about it, something felt _horribly_ wrong about the idea of killing Vader’s assassin; Obi-Wan didn’t know why. “Yes. You may. She is too much a danger to the galaxy at large.” 

“All right. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“But remember, Ahsoka...remember _why_ you’re there in the first place. There is a larger mission at stake.” 

“Luke. I know.” Ahsoka’s voice softened. “I’d like to meet him.” 

Her master’s son. Of course. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. “It will not be immediately--both of you must remain discreet--but I would like for you to meet. Believe me. He would like you.” 

Obi-Wan could hear the smile in her voice...and the sadness. “I bet.” 

There was a pause; a lengthy pause. Obi-Wan was overwhelmed by a desire to see Ahsoka, in person...and he knew it would not happen any time soon. 

“Well,” he said at last. “You have a mission to accomplish.” 

“I do.” The confidence had returned to Ahsoka’s voice; and instantly, Obi-Wan realized he was not alone. It seemed that she, as well, was fighting a constant need to break down. “I’ll give that assassin a distraction she’ll never forget...if she lives to remember it.” 

“I believe you will,” Obi-Wan said. “May the Force be with you, Ahsoka.” 

“You, too.” 

There was a click, and her voice was gone...and Obi-Wan felt more alone than ever. He laid back, closing his eyes. 

_Luke still had not responded._

He was getting too old for this. 

Impatience would do him no good; taking several deep breaths, Obi-Wan focused on the Force. He let the calmness fill him, the sense of peace and _satisfaction_ flowing through him…

The sense of danger. 

Instantly, Obi-Wan was alert. Yes, there was danger, there was danger all around; how had he not sensed it? Danger surrounding…

Danger surrounding Luke. 

  
  


Falling was a strange sensation. 

It wasn’t something Luke had ever thought would be strange; but now that he was in the air, dropping with nothing underneath him, was not anything that he was used to. For a few seconds, all he felt was wonder. 

Then, there was fear. 

He was falling. There was nothing under him. He was in the air, no one was going to save him...he could see the ground, and he was getting ever closer to landing...he’d splatter on it…

_Take the leap._

The Force, he remembered, trust the Force. 

_No fear._

Luke clenched his fists in midair. It was difficult, extremely difficult, he forced his fear away, shoving it into a corner of his mind, closed his eyes, and reached out. 

_I trust in you...I believe you will help me._

Immediately, Luke was surrounded by a sense of peace; he was calm. He was strong in the Force. The Force would help him...and, therefore, he could do anything. 

Luke opened his eyes. 

The ground was closing in. The facility was close as well, but in the distance...and there were several transport vessels descending with him. 

Brilliant. 

Seizing the Force around him, he focused all his energy on the one directly below him, willing the Force to soften the impact...a second later, he landed, with a thud and a yelp; he’d almost missed it, and managed to grab onto the end. 

A moment later, the vehicle swerved. Luke looked down; the pilot was yelling something at him. 

“Sorry,” he said, leaped into the air, and turned a flip backwards; the next one was just below, right under him, and Luke shoved his fear away once again. This time, it was surprisingly easy. The landing this time was almost as bad--once again, he couldn’t land on his feet and hit the transport with another thud--but he was on his feet quickly, and he realized he was at the back of the transport. 

How was he going to get momentum this time?

At the _back..._

Huh. There was an idea.

Luke crouched, holding onto the transport as it descended; and then, with a grin, he was up and running at full speed, boots almost sliding across the slick surface...but somehow, despite the wind pushing and pulling at him, he stayed upright, running until he’d gotten to the end and…

What did he do now? In a panic, he came to a stop at the edge, barely holding himself back. 

Right. He jumped. The next was farther down, but in reach. 

_Keep it together, Luke. Come on!_

Clenching his teeth, Luke gathered the Force around him and jumped again; and this time, it wasn’t terrifying to let the air carry him along. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t so high up, maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t died yet, but the feeling of soaring through the air, feeling nothing under him, was the most freeing experience in the world. He grinned as he came down, ready to land--please don’t freak out, pilot--

_The Force is my ally._

He landed on his feet. 

A rush of exhilaration flew through him; this time, he only hesitated for a second before he was running again, loving the feeling of the wind pulling at him, before he leaped off the edge of the transport into the air, extending his legs behind him...and then letting himself drop. 

This was the most fun he'd had in his entire life. 

“Whooooo!” he yelled as he fell, caught up in the moment and completely not caring if even the Empire heard him. If they did, maybe they could appreciate his skydiving skills. 

A familiar ship appeared next to him; looking across, Luke could see that it was Numa’s shuttle. She was looking at him with a mixture of horror and amusement on her face, and he waved at her. She rolled her eyes, and Luke turned his attention back to the task at hand. 

The facility was right there; he’d carried himself almost to its feet. 

His problem, however, was that no other vehicles seemed to be going this way. He’d gone too far. 

For a moment, he felt panic seize him. No, no, he knew he shouldn’t have gotten lost in the moment--

No fear. 

There were still transports behind him. 

Could he...could he do it? It was a crazy idea, but it was worth a try. Luke gathered up the Force around him, just as he’d done before, reveling in its power...and then, he let go. 

He stopped falling _forward._ Instead, he fell down. 

Now for the trick. After a few seconds, Luke gathered the Force again, feeling his head ache at the pressure--he’d never used the Force this much before--and imagined himself flying backwards. 

_My ally is the Force, my ally is the Force…_

He released the energy. 

And, instantly, he was blown backwards with all the force of a hurricane. 

The feeling was almost _shocking,_ but he took control of it; the transport he’d just jumped off of was right there. All he had to do was push himself toward it. Another second, and he was right on top of it--he grabbed the edge--and he held on. 

And so far, the pilot seemed unaware of his presence. 

For a few seconds, Luke let it carry him along, forcing himself to hang there, despite the way it pulled at his muscles; then, he realized he was close enough to the ground. He could just jump from here and land. 

“Hey!” He turned at the voice; _now_ they’d noticed. “Get off my ship!” 

Luke let go with one hand to salute the pilot. 

“I’m planning on it,” he shouted back, and took a flying leap into the air. For a few terrifying moments, he descended without the Force; then he grasped it around him, letting it guide him. The ground was closing in...closing…

Too close. 

Oh, well. The fun would totally eclipse the landing anyway. 

He hit the ground with an _oomph,_ limbs and head and everything else crashing into the dirt, darkness closing in; and for a moment, he teetered on the edge of consciousness. 

Then he came back, his head spinning, and he looked around. 

He was on Cato Neimoidia, kneeling in front of the facility. 

Several hundred meters behind him, Numa was just landing the shuttle. His comlink beeped. 

“I see you succeeded,” he heard. “Good job.” 

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m headed in. All I do is use the Force, right?” 

“Correct. I’ll give you some tips, if you need reminding, but try not to call me too much. They might trace the signal.” 

“Got it. I’ll tell you when I’m coming out.” 

“Okay. They’re coming to investigate the shuttle; get out of here.” 

“On it.” 

As Luke put the comlink away, he got the feeling that, for the first time in his life, he was fulfilling his position as the Starling, and as Obi-Wan’s Padawan. 

And as his father’s son. 

His father would be proud of him if he knew what Luke had done today. He just knew it. 

But the job wasn’t over yet. 

_Father,_ he thought into the Force. _I won’t let you down._

Then, with a final wave at Numa, he ran toward the facility. 

  
  


Thousands of lightyears across the galaxy, beyond Coruscant, beyond Alderaan, into the Outer Rim, on the fiery planet of Mustafar, Darth Vader rested in his chamber. At last his assassin had gone, to do some training and meditation on the planet of Arorua--a planet fresh in the Dark Side--before being sent on her mission. 

It was her mission...but it was his call. She did nothing without his approval. 

And now, he felt it in the Force. It was time to make the call. 

It was time to have revenge. 

This time, emerging from the tank was not an unpleasant experience. This time, it was driven by his burning hatred in the Force, his pain controlled; because at long last, his revenge would come. 

The Angel of Death would not fail. 

When he was fully clothed in the suit, and mask, and all the cursed elements that went with it, he was marching purposefully to his comm suite. In a moment, he had prepared the call and stepped onto the platform. 

The assassin did not take long to appear. 

Unfortunately, she wore Padme’s face. His anger burned hotter; but for once, he did not tell her to put on her mask. 

His anger must burn. It sharpened his focus, in the Force. 

And if something was wrong...if the mission would fail...he would know it. 

“Assassin,” he rumbled. “It is time.”

She knelt before him. “Yes, Lord Vader.” 

That was it. Then she was gone. 

For the first time in eighteen years, Vader felt satisfaction. It was the closest to a Light emotion he had felt in years...except that it was not, because it was drenched in the desire for murder. For blood. 

For revenge. 

It was the best moment he’d experienced in seventeen years. 

And then, in one instant, it was ruined. 

Without warning, the Force was flooded with light; with light, and joy, and peace, and calm. All the signs of the Light side, the _weak_ side, of the Force. They were all things he had known...and he despised them. 

But they were not only feelings. 

This presence was not only feelings. 

It came in a voice. 

_Father,_ it said, and that one word struck Vader to the core; the word he could never know, could never experience. The word he was cursed to dwell on, every time he looked at his assassin who bore the visage of Padme Amidala. _I won’t let you down._

I won’t let you down. The words he should have been graced to hear, from his offspring...his offspring that would have just turned eighteen. 

Who was it? 

Who _was this?_

It could not be his child; it could _not._ He’d received inescapable proof of it. His child was _dead._

And yet, there was a person out there, who had somehow reached him, and who had the Force. 

There was something behind this. 

Vader’s child was dead. That was a fact. It must have been a vision, a punishment from the Force for all that he had done. He was ridiculous to believe otherwise. 

But perhaps, where the words had been false, the presence was real. 

The presence of a cursed _Jedi._

But perhaps it meant something. He had done well to immerse himself in the Force. 

Not all would go as planned. 

There was to be a disturbance in the Force. 

It had not arrived yet...but soon, very soon, it would. 

A storm was coming. And at the heart of it was the presence that had, by some coincidence or else the will of the Force, touched his mind. 

A storm was coming, and he would be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh so not QUITE at Luke's mission yet! So sorry it's taken so long to get there...but these important things have had to happen first. And that last scene with Vader is...very much important in the whole context of the fic. The infiltration will happen next chapter, though...and then we'll FINALLY find out who's Target Number One on the Imperial list!


	6. The Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last...Luke performs his mission.

The facility towered. 

Luke had run toward it quickly, trying not to think about what awaited him inside; but then, mere meters from the door, he stopped and looked up. The facility was a gigantic structure of obsidian, looming over him as if it _knew_ that he was there, its two turrets rising above the rest like two judgmental eyebrows, scowling down at him. 

Luke swallowed. He had to go in. 

_Think, think...what did Numa say? What am I supposed to do?_

Luke racked his brain. He couldn’t fail before he’d even gotten into the place, but suddenly he couldn’t remember. What _happened_ if he couldn’t remember? Would they call someone else? 

No. He was the only man for the job. He _had_ to do it. 

But he couldn’t _remember--_

Luke clenched his fists. He needed to be calm, at peace; it didn’t matter how dangerous the situation was. He needed to walk into the fire with his head held high; the Rebellion was depending on him. 

His father’s Padawan, who he’d never met, was depending on him. 

Luke closed his eyes, taking deep breaths; and then he remembered. 

_All he had to do was immerse himself in the Force._ Then the door would open. 

Great. The part of being a Jedi he’d _always_ had problems with. But then...he’d done it last night, hadn’t he? He’d been able to see the future, or at least a possible future...Organa in danger…

He had to keep Senator Organa from being in danger. 

And he could do it. 

Luke kept his eyes shut, thinking back to Obi-Wan’s teachings; he must empty his mind of all fear, of all worry, of everything he could not control. Control was an illusion; the Force held everything in motion. There was no set future--it was always shifting--but the Force always understood it, always held some part of it. 

_Think,_ Obi-Wan would always tell him, _what makes you happiest?_

The answer came easily. Flying. 

So Luke pictured himself in his skyhopper on Tatooine, tearing across the sands, waving to his aunt and uncle--

No. Too sad. 

Frowning, he concentrated on something else. A positive memory, with nothing else attached to it: the one and only time he’d flown in an X-Wing. At fifteen years old, the Rebellion had needed them tested, had set up an obstacle course through the atmosphere using old parts of machines and Separatist blockades...and he’d passed it with flying colors. He’d weaved his way through the obstacles, done barrel rolls; he’d felt, for the first time since Tatooine, truly happy. 

Luke smiled, remembering that joy; and remembering the consequent joy of falling through the air mere minutes ago, the closest thing he’d ever experience to true flying. 

He’d felt like he was one with the Force. 

_I am,_ he thought. _I’m one with the Force, and the Force is with me._

The earth trembled under him. Luke opened his eyes, terrified--and secretly hopeful--that Darth Vader had just showed up...but instead the door moved. 

The door was opening. 

_He’d done it._

Luke turned to look over his shoulder; in the distance, Numa was watching him, the Imperials not yet there. She gave him a thumbs-up. 

Luke grinned, saluted her, and disappeared inside. 

  
  


It was silent inside the facility: silent as death, and dark. Fortunately, Luke thought, the door behind him was still open. That might come in useful for getting out of here, he thought. So far, he could see no other way in or out. 

Luke looked around. There was no one there, none of the guards that Numa had predicted; only a wide hallway, and a staircase, and a chest at the end of the room. He found himself suddenly struck by a desire to see what was in that chest. 

_Luke,_ something seemed to be whispering to him. _Luke Skywalker._

He frowned. Why him? He had to be imagining it…

_Leia. Leia…_

And who was Leia? 

_Come to me…_

Now he was no longer doubtful that he was imagining things. He could hear the voice speaking the words clearly, in his head; and it seemed to be speaking in a dark, possessive voice. 

Such a voice could only be Dark. 

Luke shook his head. What had Numa said? 

_You’ll walk straight until you see a staircase,_ Numa had said. _Take it up all the way, turn left, turn left again, and you’ll appear to be at a dead end._

So, shaking off the intense desire, he turned his attention to the staircase and began to walk. One step forward, then another...nothing happened. No traps sprang out of the floor, no guards jumped from the dark to attack him. Emboldened by his success, Luke stepped onto the staircase, made of solid marble, and began to climb. 

  
  


Obi-Wan Kenobi was getting older, and felt it by the day; and as such, he hadn’t run anywhere, or performed much physical activity, for years. He hadn’t had _cause_ to run in years. But he ran now. Luke was in danger, somehow, and they had to get to Cato Neimoidia. Perhaps Qui-Gon would have told him he was moving too quickly, that he was making assumptions; but the Force had told him clearly, and he knew, and he would act on it. 

_Luke was in danger, Luke was in danger--_

He couldn’t let this end the way it had with Leia. It would not happen; he would not fail _again._

He had not saved the boy from a lifetime of slavery for _this_ to happen. 

“Obi-Wan!” Bail looked up as his friend ran into the Council chamber; he was standing there with Andor and Mon Mothma. “What’s wrong?”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan gasped, coming to a stop. “It’s Luke, he’s in danger.” 

Andor threw up his hands. “I told you, Master Jedi; I knew that he was too young. What are we supposed to do, rush to Cato Neimoidia ourselves?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan set his jaw. “That is _exactly_ what we are supposed to do.” 

“But--” Andor opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “But--a spy mission--he’s, he has to--”

“I understand that he’s the Starling,” Obi-Wan said. “But that’s exactly why we have to save him now! He is our only hope the galaxy has left, _the_ only hope, and if he fails--”

“But he won’t,” Organa said, and Obi-Wan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Obi-Wan, listen to me. Luke is Anakin’s son, he is a Jedi, and he is the Starling. He will not--”

“How do you know that?” Obi-Wan knew that he sounded too sharp, too demanding, but he didn’t care. “I saw it in the Force, Bail. I know how it sounds, I know the mission we’ve sent him on, but--”

“Is the Angel there?” Bail cut him off. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “What?”

“I repeat,” Bail said, calmly, he sounded _too calm,_ “is the Angel of Death there? Is Vader’s assassin on Cato Neimoidia?”

“N...no,” Obi-Wan said, Bail’s question catching him off guard. “No. Ahsoka has confirmed it.”

“Ahsoka. Yes. She’s going to engage the assassin, is she not?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, then realized what Bail was getting at. “But that means nothing, Bail! Nothing at all! Maybe the Angel of Death is a great threat to him, but you are forgetting about _Vader himself._ What if _he_ is on Cato Neimoidia? There could still--”

“No. Vader is at his castle on Mustafar.” 

Obi-Wan stared. He understood what Bail was saying, he understood that neither of the two greatest threats to Luke’s existence were anywhere near the boy, but still--he--he’d felt it--

“Obi-Wan,” Bail said, his tone softening, “listen to me. I understand that I do not have the Force. I understand that you have a great connection to it, and to Luke, but even if there is danger...you have said it yourself. Luke is the _Starling._ He is the boy people are beginning to whisper about, who people are wondering about...he is the boy who might just be the only threat to the Empire.” 

“And that,” Obi-Wan said, “is exactly why we have to save him! Even if the danger hasn’t happened yet, we must be there, to help him, to--”

“ _No,”_ Bail said sharply, banging his fist on the table. 

Andor, seeming to realize that this was a conversation he was no longer a part of, gathered up his materials from the table and left the room. 

Obi-Wan leaned in close. “ _No?”_

“No,” Bail repeated calmly. “I apologize for my tone, Obi-Wan, and usually I would listen to you...but in this matter, you are wrong. You have spoken, haven’t you, that sometimes emotions might cloud one’s judgment? That Anakin--”

“Do not speak to me of Anakin,” Obi-Wan said wearily, still in disbelief as to why Bail was just _standing here,_ when Luke was so obviously--

He stopped. 

This was what Anakin had done, when his mother had died; Obi-Wan had found out from Padme. He had loved his mother, deeply, too deeply--had gone rushing after her, having seen her dying, in his dreams, in the Force--and he had slaughtered innocents. 

Bail was right. 

He _was_ letting his emotions cloud his judgment. 

“Luke is young, that’s true,” Bail said, “but Anakin was younger when he accompanied you on very dangerous missions. Luke is not fully trained, but he has _been trained,_ he is your Padawan, he is the Starling, and he has succeeded before. You must trust him.” 

Obi-Wan released the breath he’d been holding. 

“I know,” he said. “And I...am sorry. I have been letting my emotions rule me where Luke is concerned. But the Jedi...were not entirely right about that, either.” He planted both hands on the table so that he could look Bail in the eye. “I swore to protect him, Bail. _Both of them._ I remember what happened that day. You remember what happened that day.” 

Immense sorrow flooded Bail’s mind--Obi-Wan felt it keenly--but the Senator, despite the tears that welled in his eyes, did not look away. “I know, Obi-Wan. I know, and I understand.” 

“I know you do. That is why I cannot fail again.” 

“I _understand,_ Obi-Wan, but--” Bail sighed. “You have lived with so much guilt over this, my friend. I know why. But, at this point...the situation is out of your hands. Luke is the Starling, a covert agent for the Rebellion; and soon, perhaps very soon, he will have to do things ten times as dangerous as the mission he is performing now. Which, by the way, is a _very important mission._ We need to find out who the assassin’s next target is, and that mission cannot be interrupted.”

“Yes--” Obi-Wan saw the logic, but he was still going to argue, as long as Luke was in danger. “But--”

“Ahsoka has engaged the Angel?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “She's just landed. She’ll keep the assassin distracted for as long as Luke needs, but--”

“Then there is nothing to worry about,” Bail said, “except this.” 

He said it so cryptically, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be worried. “What?”

“ _Relax,”_ Bail said with a smile. “Luke has trusted you; we all have. Now, danger or not, you must trust _him_ in return.” 

  
  


Luke had reached the dead end. 

It had happened just as Numa had said: at the end of the stairs, he’d taken two left turns, and had then arrived in front of a black wall, with no other place left to turn. But, strangely enough, there had been no guards, no traps, no security alarms. 

Something was wrong. He felt it, in the Force. 

But he could do nothing about it. He was in the facility now, and he needed to get that information. 

The next part was a secret door; Numa had said that there would be a door, which would be opened with the Force. Now the immersing in the Force part didn’t seem so hard. He expected he’d just do it, like before, thinking of the happy memories of flying, and falling...and then, one of the three walls would open up, or something like that. 

_Flying,_ Luke thought to himself, closing his eyes. _Remember the barrel rolls...remember Numa’s face…_

There was a hiss as the door opened. Luke opened his eyes. 

Except that none of the walls had moved. 

He frowned. What had happened? He’d heard the sound, he was sure of it, but--

“You’re not the Angel.” 

The voice came...from _above._

Quickly, Luke looked up; and there, peeking out of a hole in the ceiling--the door, that was the door, of course it was--was the palest face he’d ever seen in his life. 

He knew that face. It was an Inquisitor. 

Luke swallowed. What was he going to do about _this?_ Inquisitors, besides Darth Vader, were the worst enemies of the Jedi...if they found Force sensitives, they either stole them and forced them to learn the Dark Side, to become Inquisitors themselves...or they killed them. 

“Uh...no,” he said. “I’m not the Angel.” 

“And you are most certainly not Lord Vader,” said the Inquisitor with some disdain; Luke didn’t know which one of them it was. Most likely it didn’t matter; they were all equally dangerous. “And that means that you are not supposed to be here.” 

Luke swallowed again; his throat felt tight. What should he do? Numa hadn’t said anything about Inquisitors! Wouldn’t Ahsoka have encountered them? 

Then it hit him. Maybe they were a new thing. Maybe since Ahsoka’s break-in, Inquisitors had been stationed here as an extra level of defense...and that’s why she hadn’t known about them. 

_Guards you have to dispatch quietly. No lightsaber._

Well. This was going to be fun. 

“Who are you, I wonder?” said the Inquisitor, dropping down to stand next to him; he was _tall,_ Luke realized with a spark of fear, almost unusually tall. He was at least a head taller, and incredibly thin. “To get this far, you would have to be a Force sensitive. But how have I not sensed you before now?” He took a step closer; Luke took a stumbling step back. “I would answer quickly, if I were you. Having thoughts ripped from your mind is not a pleasant experience.” 

Terror shot through him at that, and despite Numa’s warning, Luke was reaching for his lightsaber. It was his best defense, and even he wasn’t skilled enough to do well against an Inquisitor--

_No fear._

He had to make his father proud. 

Luke clenched his fists. 

What he did next was most likely the stupidest thing he had ever done; but also the bravest, and in his current situation, the only thing he could have done. 

Furious, and determined to do anything to throw the Inquisitor off his tracks, Luke straightened up to his full height, which admittedly was not much, but it helped his confidence. 

“I’m Anakin Skywalker’s son, you bastard,” he said. 

The Inquisitor was most definitely thrown off his tracks. His eyes blew wide, mouth open in an expression of shock; he was speechless. 

That gave Luke the perfect opportunity to reach out with the Force and throw him across the room. There was a rush of air, a shout, and a crash as the Inquisitor fell down the entire staircase and landed in a heap at the bottom. 

Luke cringed. 

For a moment he was afraid he'd killed the Inquisitor, but when he didn't feel the man's life snuffed out in the Force, he relaxed. But still...the way he was lying, crumpled on the floor...Luke hadn't meant to throw him _that_ far. 

_Well, that’s going to set off some alarms,_ he thought. But as there was no sound yet, and he was almost to his destination, he decided he’d better go on. 

Turning back to the door in the ceiling, he gathered the Force around him--for about the millionth time that day--bent his knees, and leaped. 

  
  


Luke’s Force-assisted leap threw him beyond the hole in what was now the floor--fortunate, because given his luck, he probably would have just fallen back through--and several feet forward. He landed on a carpeted floor. 

The door shut behind him. 

Slowly, Luke looked up. 

The carpeting underneath him turned out to be a long path down the center of the room, a very long, wide room that looked almost like a library. There were shelves decorating every wall, to his right and left and even behind him. Every place on the wall, every bare spot, was taken up...except for one at the very end of the room. 

There rested a computer database system. 

He was in the chamber. 

And, he realized with alarm, he had forgotten to take out the tool. The lasers were coming, they were going to scan him! 

Luke fumbled with the waist pouch, fingers scrabbling, searching inside it, until at long last, he’d found the little tool and taken several steps back, heart pounding, ready to stick it into the wall as soon as the lasers appeared. 

But they never did. 

Luke waited a full thirty seconds, then an entire minute, then three minutes...nothing happened. 

But Numa had _said_ it would happen…

Well. He wasn’t complaining. 

But he was not going to let his guard down.

Slowly, carefully, Luke returned the tool to the pouch and took a step forward, waiting for something to explode under his feet. But, again, nothing happened. Of course, Numa hadn’t told him anything would explode...but this facility, as it turned out, was not quite the way Ahsoka Tano remembered it. 

He took another step. Still nothing happened. 

Luke continued to walk in this way, step by step, hardly daring to breathe, expecting himself to die or be exposed at any minute; but eventually nothing had happened, and he was standing in front of the holocomputer. 

Now it was time. 

Quickly, he drew out the gloves and put them on. Now the system wouldn’t be able to identify him. And now…

_Now you will enter in a code._

Luke’s anger burned. He remembered _that,_ all right. Even if he were brainwashed and made to forget everything, he’d never forget _that._

Amidala. 

How could Vader _do that,_ how could he dishonor Luke's mother in such a way....Luke wanted to kill him, just ignite his lightsaber and--

No. 

He was a _Jedi._

And...and yet...

 _I’m here to do a job,_ he told himself. _Bail Organa’s the target, I have to find out for sure that it’s him...I have to focus…_

He counted to three. 

_Do it for your mother...do it for her…_

_Make Mother proud._

Then he released his anger into the Force. 

Breathing slower now, Luke stepped forward, turned on the system, and held his breath. 

No alarms. It hadn’t sensed him. 

Then, struggling with the ever growing anger, he typed in the code: _Amidala._

_Mother, do it for Mother, do it for Mother._

Luke wished she was still alive. He hoped that she, too, would be proud of him. 

The holocomputer turned on. 

Immediately, Luke was met with dozens of files, tiny little images filling the screen, so fast he could hardly keep track of them. But thanks to Ahsoka, and thanks to Numa’s careful explanation, he knew which one he was looking for. 

_Assignments._

He was almost here. He was almost going to know. For some reason, the very thought of it made him anxious. 

Luke searched through the files, forcing himself to ignore titles such as _Locations_ and _Inquisitors_ and _Operation Failsafe,_ until he’d found _Assignments._

Fingers trembling slightly, Luke touched it. 

Now he was met with a smaller group of files, and once again he had to ignore the impulse to click on any one of the others; he was here to find out, here to find the information he knew he was going to find, the information he hoped he wasn’t going to find...and the names of countless others. Focus, Skywalker, focus…

_The Damned._

There it was. 

Luke swallowed. 

This was it. This was the point at which his father’s Padawan had failed....and, if the Force was willing, he was going to make it farther. 

_Father, Mother...this one’s for you._

He touched the file. 

Nothing appeared immediately; at first, all he saw was a blank screen, as the page slowly loaded. Luke snorted. So, not even the Angel of Death’s facility of private information was impervious to connection problems, was it? 

Then, after several seconds, words began to appear. Luke leaned in close and read the words. 

And read them again. 

_Wait, what the--?_

The blood drained from his face.

“No,” he whispered. “No _way.”_

It couldn't be true.

And yet, the information on the holocomputer told him otherwise. 

Almost faster than he thought he could move, he was digging through the pouch, pulling out his comlink, his hands shaking, sweat dripping down his back. In seconds, he'd entered Obi-Wan's number. 

The first name on the list, the assassin’s next target...the next one to be killed by Vader's mandate...by the Angel of Death...

It was not Bail Organa. 

It was Ahsoka Tano.

Which meant that his father's apprentice was walking _right into a trap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo the target is NOT Bail, is it? :P I was literally SHAKING writing the last scene, I've had this planned for a month and it was so exciting to write it! From here on the story really gets going :D


	7. Ahsoka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trap is sprung.

Ahsoka Tano knew it the minute they arrived: the planet Arorua was strong in the Dark Side. 

During the journey through hyperspace, she had begun to sense a warning in the Force, a dark, ominous sense of foreboding; but she hadn’t been able to guess what it might be. And yet, there was no harm in being as prepared as she could possibly be. 

“Get ready,” she’d told her old friend Rex, formerly a clone Captain. “We need to prepare for anything.” 

“Of course, Ahsoka,” he’d said with a smile. It had taken years for him to start calling her by her name instead of “sir,” but she’d gotten him to do it; in the wake of Order 66, rank didn’t matter any longer. They were not Commander and Captain; they were simply two friends who’d survived, and fortunately they’d remained that way for the last seventeen years. 

After telling Rex, she’d known he would prepare everyone else: the other former clones Gregor and Wolffe, the handful of Rebel soldiers, the young pilot, Wedge Antilles. So she sat down, cross-legged, and immersed herself in the Force. She may not be able to know where the sense of danger was coming from, or what it meant; but the moment they emerged from hyperspace, she would know. 

For seven minutes, she was surrounded by peace and a subdued hint of foreboding. 

Then, they emerged; and in an instant, she was overwhelmed by a screaming sense of darkness, and hatred, and...and _danger._ The Angel of Death was most certainly here, she realized grimly as she opened her eyes, gasping with the shock. 

“We’re making our landing,” announced Antilles from the cockpit. Ahsoka ignored him. What was going on? Who did this have to do with? She’d known there would be danger...but could it be possible that they were making a mistake? 

_No,_ she told herself. _This is for Anakin’s kid. I_ have _to do it._

But what if the kid in question was the one in danger? 

She couldn’t risk it. In an instant, she’d taken out her comlink and dialed Obi-Wan. He answered within seconds. 

“Ahsoka,” he said. “What’s your situation?”

“We--we’ve just arrived,” she said, struggling to get her breathing under control. “We’re making our landing, but--but I have to ask--is something wrong with Luke? Is he all right?”

“I...haven’t heard from him,” Obi-Wan said, and she could hear the worry in his voice. “But of course, Anakin never checked in. Why do you ask?”

“I can sense it,” Ahsoka said. “Danger. Can you?”

“I did as well, I’ve just been to speak to the Council about it.” He sighed. “They believe I am worrying too much. I must trust Luke, and you, of course.” 

“Of course.” Ahsoka tried not to give away her own worry. “I’ll do my part, Obi-Wan, don’t worry.” 

The ship began to shake as they entered the atmosphere. 

“Yes,” he said, sounding grim. “See that you do.” 

There was a click, and he hung up. 

“Ahsoka,” said a voice to her right; Rex. She forced a smile. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly,” she said. “It’s Anakin’s son who might be in trouble.” 

“Well, then--” Rex hefted the grenade rifle he was carrying, along with his blaster. “We’ll just have to do our job, then, won’t we?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka looked out the viewport as they emerged onto the planet; she would have to stop worrying, she realized, if they were on a planet strong with the Dark Side. She was no longer a Jedi, but neither was she anywhere close to a Sith; she must not give into her anger, or the fight would quickly be over. She had walked a careful balance between both sides for seventeen years, being in tune with her emotions and yet never quick to anger...but on a planet such as this, it would be difficult. 

They were about three minutes from the surface, and Ahsoka reached out with the Force, searching for the assassin; in seconds, she found her. Vader’s infamous agent was about a mile away. She opened her eyes. 

“Hey, Fulcrum,” shouted the Antilles kid, “where do you want me to put the ship down?”

“Don’t put it down,” Ahsoka told him. “We’re jumping out.” 

“That’s not in the plans,” Antilles reminded her. 

“Save it for when you’re a real pilot, kid,” Gregor told him. “When you’re with Ahsoka Tano, nothing ever goes according to the plan.” 

Ahsoka clenched her fists. Gregor couldn’t have said that on purpose...but she’d heard those same words spoken about Anakin too many times to count. 

“Trooper, get the door open,” she said to one of the Rebels who’d accompanied them. She almost wished Cassian was with them-- _he_ always knew what she wanted--but for now he was needed with Bail Organa. 

“Once we jump,” she told the pilot, “go back into orbit, and wait for my signal!” 

Antilles looked disgruntled, but he nodded. 

A moment later, the side door was open, and wind blasted into the ship. 

“No jetpack?” Rex asked her, but he was grinning. 

“Of course not,” she told him. 

He slapped her on the back. _That_ wouldn’t have happened during the Clone Wars, but they were friends now. 

“Just like old times,” he said as Gregor and Wolffe leaped from the ship. 

Ahsoka saluted him, reached for the Force, and jumped after them. 

_Don’t worry, Anakin. Nothing’s going to happen to your kid, as long as I’m fighting._

  
  


_Ahsoka has engaged the Angel,_ Obi-Wan told himself. _Ahsoka is distracting her...no harm will come to Luke…_

All the same, he kept his comlink right next to him. The second either Ahsoka or Luke commed him, he would know. In the meantime, he was waiting in his ship, lightsaber at the ready. He wanted to submerge himself in the Force, but he knew what it would tell him. 

_Do not let him die, do not let him die--_

It was the Dark Side; he recognized that. The Dark Side was telling him that Luke would die, that he would lose everything, that it would all be his fault. He knew he must let go...but for some reason, he could not let go of Luke. 

_It is because of Leia, you fear that he will die...and fear leads to anger…_

What would he do if Luke died? The thought stilled him; and then he cast it from his mind. 

_Trust in your Padawan,_ he told himself sternly. _Trust him. He will do the right thing._

But had Anakin done the right thing? 

He had. He had absolutely done the right thing, except for the one time it had really counted. 

_Trust in Luke...trust in him...trust the Force…_

But still he could not shake the feeling that Luke was in danger--

His comlink rang. 

It was Luke’s frequency. 

In an instant, Obi-Wan had picked it up. “Luke?”

“Ben,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan could have cried with relief. He was all right, he was not dead--

Bail had been right. 

“Luke,” he said. “Why did you not check in with me? You have no idea--”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Luke said, and for the first time Obi-Wan realized how _absolutely panicked_ he sounded. “But that’s not really what you should be concerned with right now--”

He’d seen the list. 

“Who is it?” Obi-Wan demanded, fearing that he would hear Bail’s name. “Who is the next target?”

“That’s the thing, it’s not Senator Organa,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan’s insides froze. “It’s Ahsoka, she’s walking right into a trap!” 

Luke could not have told him anything worse. 

Ahsoka. _Ahsoka._ Not Bail, not Mothma, not even Obi-Wan himself--there had been a thought in the back of his head that Vader had at last decided to exact his revenge on his old master--but Ahsoka. 

_His Padawan._

The horror of the situation at last struck Obi-Wan: Vader had somehow, inexplicably, discovered that his old Padawan was alive and had not been relieved, had not been happy, but had immediately decided that she must be killed. For years Obi-Wan had believed there must be some spark of good left in the man, that there was something left there...but now he understood how far Anakin had fallen. If he had wanted to kill Obi-Wan, he would have understood; Obi-Wan had cut off his remaining limbs, had left him to die. But Ahsoka had done none of that. She had barely even seen him before the worst happened--

Oh. 

That was it. 

She had _left him._ She’d done it for her own good...but nonetheless she had left him when he needed her, and in the few hours he’d been able to see her, she had not spoken with him. He had told Obi-Wan that, had even expressed his frustration--

_She doesn’t care about me anymore, Obi-Wan. She must blame me._

And several days later, he had become Darth Vader. 

He blamed her for what had happened to him. And he wanted revenge. 

“Obi-Wan,” Luke said imploringly, and Obi-Wan realized he’d been silent too long. “What should I do? What do we need to do?”

“We need to get her out of there,” Obi-Wan said, getting to his feet. “And _you_ need to get out of the facility. Memorize as much of the list as you can, escape, get to Numa, and meet us over Cato Neimoidia. We will pick you up and go to Arorua.”

“All right,” Luke said, and Obi-Wan picked up a note of worry in his voice. “But--”

“What is it?”

“I thought you should know.” Luke’s voice trembled slightly. “You’re on the list.” 

He had known it; and he had expected panic, but after hearing that Ahsoka was the next target, Obi-Wan was surprised at how calm he felt. 

“How far down?” he asked. 

There was a moment of silence, and then: “Sixth.” 

Six. That was farther down than he’d anticipated. What could Vader possibly be planning? He hated his old master, Obi-Wan knew it, but--

Then it hit him. It was like with Maul--Maul had hated him so much that he had wanted to break him, first, to absolutely destroy his spirit before at last gaining the satisfaction of watching him die. 

That was how terribly Vader hated him. He wanted Obi-Wan to watch _everyone else_ die before killing him. First Ahsoka, then whoever else was on the list…

It was a very, _very good thing_ that Vader did not know about Luke. Either he would turn him...or, if he never found out his surname, he would try to kill him to get to Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan didn’t know which was worse. 

And that reminded him of something. 

“Luke,” he said. “When we pick you up, you will _not_ go down to Arorua with us. You will not.” 

“What?” Of course Luke would be devastated. “But you’re going to need me! You--”

“Luke, you have done a wonderful service to us. To _me._ I cannot thank you enough. But the Empire cannot find out that you exist.” Obi-Wan sighed. “They cannot! Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Luke muttered, sounding none too happy about it. 

But at least he’d agreed. 

“Good. Now, get out of there. We will be there within the hour.” 

Then, Obi-Wan hung up. 

It was time to save Ahsoka. 

  
  


Since there was nothing to help her leap through the air, the landing was a little rougher than usual, but Ahsoka managed it. Then she waited, continuing to monitor the assassin’s presence, until Rex and the other Rebels arrived. 

“You picked a cocky pilot,” the former clone muttered. “He’s about sixteen, but he already thinks he’s an expert.” 

“I seem to recall you once thought that about me,” Ahsoka said without opening her eyes; she still wasn’t completely sure about the assassin’s location. 

“I was right to think that about you,” Rex said, and she withdrew herself from the Force just to stick her tongue out at him. “All right, all right. Where’s the assassin?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Ahsoka opened her eyes and looked around. “This planet is very strong in the Dark Side; there are several pockets, as well as multiple Dark creatures. I have a hard time telling them apart from the assassin herself, but if I had to pick an exact spot…” She squinted and turned east. “I’d say about three-quarters of a mile in this direction.” 

“That would take us right into one of the towns,” Gregor said; he’d memorized the area before they departed. “We don’t want any civvies to get hurt.” 

“No. But at least there’s less of a chance of these monsters showing up.” Ahsoka patted her belt, making sure her two lightsabers were still there. “Come on.” 

  
  


_You will not go down to Arorua._

“Oh, kriff him,” Luke muttered. How could Obi-Wan do that to him? How could he? First of all, they wouldn’t even be in time to save Ahsoka; it was an hour-long trip to Cato Neimoidia from Yavin! Maybe she was strong; there was no way she couldn’t be, if she’d been his father’s Padawan. But if she was the Angel’s target...it was a trap. She was walking right to her death. She’d be dead by the time they arrived, yet Obi-Wan was going _out of his way_ not to go straight there, because he wanted Luke to be safe. 

He had to escape, of course; he had to get out of the facility without being spotted. But...after that…

He had an idea. 

It was an insane idea. Absolutely insane. It would probably get him killed, it would _definitely_ get him killed, but if he succeeded, then at least Ahsoka would have a fighting chance--

No. No, what was he _thinking?_ He was barely seventeen, he’d only been training as a Jedi for four years, and it had been sporadic at best. And beyond that...beyond that, he only did small missions. He was the Starling, but so far all he’d done was save civilians and steal intel. Nothing more than that. He couldn’t do it until they gave him a chance for more experience. 

_And when, exactly, will they do that? Obi-Wan wants to protect you, and the others don’t believe you’re strong enough._

But he _wasn't._ They were right. He wasn't strong, and--

 _Shut up,_ he told the voice in his head. _Maybe I'm not strong enough, but I'll_ make _myself strong enough._

His heart was racing, his hands trembling, but Luke had made up his mind. He was going to do it. 

Quickly, he ran his eyes over the next ten names, freezing them in his mind, trying not to freak out; once he told the Rebellion the information, all these people would be protected. After them, there were hundreds of names; but the next ten were the most important. 

Including his own master.

And now he had to put his plan into motion. Obi-Wan would be there in an hour. 

Quickly, he logged out of the computer system, ran back across the room, and slipped through the trapdoor. Then, safely out of the main room, he activated his comlink. 

“Luke,” Numa said. “What’s the situation?”

“It’s, uh, a situation,” he said, sprinting down the stairs. “I’m on my way out, I’ve got a good portion of the list memorized, the next target is Ahsoka!” 

“Ahsoka?” Numa sounded as alarmed as Luke had felt. “I’m on my way! What’s Obi-Wan going to do?”

“He, uh...wants us to take off for Arorua,” Luke said. He felt terrible about the lie, but in the end, it was going to save Ahsoka. Hopefully. “He’ll meet us there. But we have to leave immediately.” 

“Got it. I’ll be there to pick you up.” 

Luke hung up, landed at the bottom of the stairs...and then froze. 

There was a red lightsaber pointed at his face. 

_The Inquisitor._

He’d woken up. 

“If you come with me,” he said softly, “I will not kill you, nor will I trigger any alarms.”

Luke tried to stand taller. “Why would I come with you?”

“Because you are strong in the Force.” The Inquisitor smiled; it was not a nice smile. “And because...I know something that you, most likely, do not.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Luke crossed his arms. “Try me.” 

“Down there!” shouted a voice from behind him; Luke spun around to see three red-robed guards. Emperor’s guards. Why hadn’t they appeared before? “Stop him!” 

“No,” the Inquisitor started. “Wait--”

But this time, Luke was exposed, which meant he could use his lightsaber. He had ignited it in an instant, sliced it through the Inquisitor’s sword arm, and broke off in a run for the door. It opened for him immediately, and he broke through, the Inquisitor and red guards right behind him. 

And there, dead ahead, was Numa’s ship. 

She had the ramp down, and was standing at the edge, her hand extended. 

“Start the ship!” Luke shouted. “Keep the ramp down!” 

Numa nodded and disappeared. Luke ran faster, sensing his enemies right behind him, the Inquisitor at the lead; and then the ship started to rise off the ground. 

Luke clipped his lightsaber to his belt, leaped, and seized the edge of the ramp. 

And someone grabbed his foot. 

With a yelp, Luke looked down; the Inquisitor’s good hand was clenched around his leg. But Luke had _not_ gone through this entire mission to get stopped by one Inquisitor at the last minute. Holding on with one hand, he let go with the other and shoved the Force at his enemy. 

With a shout, the Inquisitor flew to the ground, and Luke was able to drag himself up. 

“Skywalker!” called the Inquisitor. 

He spun at the sound of his name. 

_I should not have told him._

“Jump down,” the man told him, clutching his right arm to his chest, “jump down and I will tell you where your father is!” 

His father. How dare this man taunt him? All he wanted was to manipulate him. 

“My father is dead,” Luke snarled. 

But, smiling, the Inquisitor shook his head. 

Luke couldn't hear him, but he saw his lips mouth the words, _No. He's not._

“Hey!” Numa shouted at him. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Luke shouted back, trying to shake off what he’d just heard. “Close the ramp!” 

And, slowly, the ramp closed, cutting off the Inquisitor. Flashes of red flew through the air around them; they’d been exposed. They were being shot at. 

_Focus,_ he told himself. _Focus._

_Ahsoka._

“Get us out of here!"

Numa nodded, and the ship shot forward, taking off into the atmosphere. The TIE fighters behind them increased speed as well, but Numa was too good; and in seconds, they’d vanished into hyperspace. 

Luke dropped into a seat beside Numa, gasping for breath. 

“Now,” he said. “Off to Arorua.” 

Strangely, Numa didn’t answer. Not for several long minutes. Luke began to worry, but he didn't say anything; they were going to save Ahsoka, as long as Numa didn't know the truth. 

“Luke,” she said at last, turning to look at him. “Obi-Wan contacted me.” 

Luke didn’t know whether to deny it or not. He was too exhausted, emotionally and physically, trying to shake off the knowledge that Ahsoka Tano was the target, and that Obi-Wan was on the list, and that his father, according to the Inquisitor, was alive. 

“We have to go to Arorua,” he told her desperately. “We...we have to--Ahsoka--we have to save her--”

“I know,” she said, and he blinked. 

“We--” He frowned. “What?”

“You’re right,” she said. “Ahsoka might die...and it might be the stupidest decision in the world, but…” She sighed. “I know her. She didn’t survive the Clone Wars to be killed by Vader’s assassin.” She shook her head. “But I really hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair. “So do I.” 

  
  


They had only been walking for fifteen minutes, but the feeling of danger had already grown stronger; Ahsoka was torn between calling Obi-Wan to make sure everything was all right with Luke and deciding that _she_ was the one in danger. But she wasn’t sure if the latter was very likely. She could still sense the assassin, but so far she hadn’t seen anything; what if the assassin had faked her presence and was off somewhere else? All sorts of strange abilities were possible with the Dark Side, after all. What if Luke was in danger? 

She took another step; and suddenly, the persistent feeling of danger _exploded._ With a cry, Ahsoka stopped and clutched her head with both hands. 

“Ahsoka!” Rex said, but she barely felt him there. She was too busy focusing on the Force. What had been hidden from her was now revealed in full. The sense of danger was so close, so terrible, so _powerful..._ and it was dead ahead. 

With difficulty, Ahsoka got a grip on the feeling and straightened. 

“Ahead,” she gasped. “The assassin’s close!” 

She broke into a run, and the others followed. 

Gregor had been right. The search had indeed taken them right into one of the towns, but it looked abandoned. There was obviously no one here; either it had been deserted, or else the Angel of Death had done something to them. 

Ahsoka hoped it was the former. But if not, she’d have revenge soon enough. 

The signal grew ever stronger, pulsating in the Force; Ahsoka followed it, barely paying attention to the others around her, until she realized where it was leading her. 

Right into a warehouse. 

Bad things had happened to her in abandoned warehouses before; Barriss Offee had ambushed her there, in a final attempt to frame her. But this time, it was different. This time, she was the hunter. Shaking off the feeling, Ahsoka sprinted into the building. The signal was so strong now, impossibly strong--

And then it vanished. 

_What?_ Confused, Ahsoka ran deeper into the warehouse, searching corners, sprinting up a creaking set of stairs. _Where are you?_

“Rex!” she shouted, turning around. “Help me--”

Rex was gone. 

But not only Rex. So were Gregor, and Wolffe, and literally every other soldier who had accompanied them. Outside, she could hear shouts; something was attacking them. 

And she was alone. 

_It’s a trap,_ she realized. _It’s a trap--_

Even as she had the thought, something moved above her; the sense of danger was back. Ahsoka looked up just as half the ceiling caved in. 

With a shout, she threw herself backwards, but she was too late; it came down on her legs, and for a moment, darkness fell. 

She was dragged back to consciousness by the ever-present sense of danger...and the pain of half the ceiling collapsing on top of her legs. With an effort, she opened her eyes. 

There was a figure in black standing above her. 

_The assassin._

Ahsoka froze. 

_Luke is going to find out the assassin’s next target…_

_It’s a trap…_

The assassin stared at her for many long moments, that horrid mask, with the gaping mouth, pointed straight at her. 

_You wondered who the target was…_

_Did you ever stop to think that it could be you?_

She’d been so stupid. They had _all_ been so stupid. 

And now, because of her, Rex was going to die. 

  
  


Usually it would have taken an hour for them to get to Cato Neimoidia. But Ahsoka's life was in danger, so Obi-Wan got them there in forty-five minutes. He knew that he was pushing things...he knew that there was a chance that Ahsoka might die, but between her and Luke, he was not going to take his chances.

"It will be all right, Obi-Wan," Bail told him as they sat waiting. "We'll save both of them."

Obi-Wan didn't answer. They had the full might of the Rebellion with them, but it still might not be enough. Obi-Wan had never seen the Angel of Death; he did not know how skilled she was, but they could not take their chances. She was _Vader's assassin,_ after all.

"We're emerging from hyperspace,” announced Cassian. “About twenty seconds.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, simply accepting the information. Once he knew Luke was all right, then he could think about Ahsoka and what to do about saving her. 

He just hoped Luke didn’t try anything rash…

 _Peace,_ Obi-Wan reminded himself. _Calm._

He took a deep breath, in and out. In...out. He closed his eyes, immersing himself in the Force...and then he opened them. 

He was calm. 

Then they emerged from hyperspace, and Obi-Wan _froze._

For one thing, Numa’s ship was nowhere in sight. 

And for another...Obi-Wan could sense that Luke was _nowhere near_ Cato Neimoidia. 

“What?” Bail leaped to his feet. “Where are they?” He turned to Cassian. “Get me the Imperial governor! If anything has happened to them--”

“Sit, Bail,” Obi-Wan said tightly. 

Bail spun to look at him. “What? Obi-Wan, what in the world--”

“They are not on Cato Neimoidia.” Obi-Wan clenched his fists. “Luke has gotten them to take off; he is nowhere here.” 

“But--” Bail stuttered. “But then, where could he possibly have gone?” 

Obi-Wan looked at him. “Where do you think?” 

By the Force. Luke had gone to Arorua.


	8. No Fear

Ahsoka’s first thought, once she’d gotten over the shock of realizing that she was the next victim of the Angel of Death, was that she had to get that debris off her legs. With a glare, she looked up at the assassin. 

“Well, this is ironic,” she said, reaching out into the Force. “I came here to kill _you,_ in case you didn’t know.” 

The assassin was silent. Did she talk? Was she even capable of talking? There was no telling what lay underneath that mask. She and Vader were alike in that respect...but if this assassin wouldn’t talk, then Ahsoka had less time than she’d hoped for. Usually she tried to distract any potential killers with conversation, to give her time to think, but this one didn’t seem too keen to talk. 

But so far, the so-called Angel of Death hadn’t moved. 

“You won’t get away with your plan,” she went on. “You may be apprenticed to a Sith, but I am skilled in the ways of the Force, and those men you’ve ambushed...they’re stronger than you think. You won’t kill them, and you certainly won’t kill me.” 

Once again, the assassin was silent. Just in case, Ahsoka tested whether she could lift the debris; it rose a millimeter off her legs, and oh, didn’t _that_ bring her relief. Though it caused her arms to tremble, she kept the debris lifted just enough to relieve her...not enough that the assassin would notice. It allowed her to prepare, because her enemy would attack any minute--

“You are mistaken.” 

Ahsoka was so surprised she almost dropped the debris; with an extreme effort, she looked back up at the assassin and tried to pretend her strength wasn’t running out. 

“You will all die,” the assassin continued, her voice sounding oddly stilted; it was not mechanical, the way Vader was said to sound, but instead sounded as if she had not spoken in years. “There is nothing that you can do to stop it. We have known you were coming.” 

Right. Ahsoka had guessed that, but hearing it from the assassin begged the question...how _much_ did the Empire know? Was it just her? Or...or did they know about Luke? 

She decided she’d better ask. 

“If you know so much,” she said coolly, “why am I here?”

The assassin’s presence in the Force, up until that moment, had been a dark, simmering nexus of iron determination; that was all Ahsoka could sense. Now, however, she could sense another emotion, if it could be called that: confusion. 

Why would such a simple question be _confusing?_

But a moment later, the assassin spoke again. 

“You are here,” she said, “to kill me. You know this. There is no other reason.” 

Ahsoka barely kept herself from heaving a sigh of relief. They didn’t know about Luke. 

“Well,” she said, trying to think of something else to talk about, “that’s--”

As she was still speaking, the assassin leaped. 

Instantly, Ahsoka lifted the debris completely off of her legs and hurled it at the assassin. There was a flash of pain in the Force, but the Angel of Death made no sound--interesting. 

And terrifying. 

The dust was still clearing, but Ahsoka didn’t wait; she didn’t want to lose the element of surprise. Testing her legs briefly--they were extremely sore, definitely bruised, but they still worked, _thank the Force--_ she jumped to her feet and drew both her lightsabers. Then she spun around, not wanting to ignite them yet for fear they would give her position away--where _was the assassin--_

What had she learned so far? 

Vader’s assassin seemed almost to have no personality, no weaknesses, and that was a bad thing; she had certainly been trained well. But one thing Ahsoka had learned was that she was very, very skilled at diffusing her Force presence, so as to make her undetectable. 

There was no point in searching for her. Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers; two beams of white light emerged, and she held them in a ready stance--

The Force roared behind her. 

Ahsoka spun around, the motion sending pain through her legs, just in time to see the Angel of Death leap at her from the shadows, red lightsaber aimed for her throat. 

  
  


Five minutes. There were five minutes until they would emerge from hyperspace.

Fortunately, it was a short jump from Cato Neimoidia to Arorua, but that didn’t stop Luke from being nervous. What if he was too late? What if Ahsoka was already dead?

No. He would have sensed it. 

All the same…he couldn’t...

 _I’ll tell you where your father is,_ whispered the voice of the Inquisitor, without warning, and Luke flinched. He couldn’t think about that, he could _not_ think about that right now. He’d ask Obi-Wan later. 

_If he survived…_

“Are you all right?” Numa asked him. 

Luke nodded, shoving the Inquisitor’s words from his head. “Yeah. Just nervous, a little.” 

“I’m not surprised.” Numa shot him a look. “You know, if you fail, it’s my neck on the line.”

“I won’t,” Luke said, not wanting to even think about the possibility. 

“And how do you know?” she challenged him. “What’s your plan?”

Oh. He hadn’t even stopped to think of a plan. So far, all he’d figured was that he was going to track Ahsoka’s presence straight to her location, blow the assassin to smithereens with the ship, grab Ahsoka, and take off. But...now that he’d thought about it...he couldn’t run in without any idea what he was going to do. 

“Uh...once we’re in the atmosphere, we’ll fly as close as we can get,” he said, thinking on the spot. “We’re gonna need to cover a lot of ground fast.” 

“I’m with you there,” she said. “And Arorua isn’t under Imperial control, so we won’t have that problem.” 

Right. That was good, especially since he hadn’t even considered it. 

“And then, as soon as we’re close, get me close enough to the ground,” he said, “and I’ll jump out. Like we did before.”

“Okay,” she said. “And then you...run?”

“Yep,” he said, trying to sound confident about it. 

“Will you need me for anything else?”

“Actually...yeah,” he said, realizing it was probably a good idea. “Cover me as I go, for air support.” 

Numa smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” She glanced down at her scopes. “All right, we’re coming out in three...two…” 

Luke swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. 

The blue light of hyperspace vanished, and there they were in open space; and Arorua was dead ahead. Luke closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached out. At first, there was nothing except for his own feelings: anxiety, determination, excitement, worry. Then his senses were swamped by an all-encompassing feeling of _darkness._ He knew what that was; it was the Dark Side. 

This planet was strong with the Dark Side of the Force. 

_Everyone thinks you are worth nothing…_

_You are too young…_

_“You’ll never amount to anything more than a slave, boy--”_

_“You are nothing!”_

_“You must wait, Luke...you will use your training eventually...you do not need to act yet…”_

_Obi-Wan keeps you from doing things...because he does not believe in you…the Rebellion thinks the same..._

It was overwhelming; the urge to move forward in anger, to go down to the planet for the sheer purpose of spiting his master. Luke knew it was wrong, he understood that, but all the same…

“Luke!” Numa said suddenly. “We have a problem.” 

“Uh, what?” Luke shook himself out of his meditation, opened his eyes--and there in front of him was a Rebel ship. “Uh...they’re not going to stop us, are they?”

“They’re hailing us,” Numa said. “We’ll have to see what they want.” 

She accepted the call, and a hologram of...of a _boy_ appeared. 

“He’s a kid,” Luke said, surprised. 

Numa shot him a look. “You’re a kid.” 

That was true. But this kid _looked_ young. 

“Who are you?” the kid demanded, and Luke suddenly remembered that they were piloting an _Imperial shuttle._ “How are you authorized to be here?”

“This is Numa,” Numa said. “With the Rebel Alliance? We had to get into an Imperial facility, I have the--I have the Starling with me--”

“The Starling?” echoed the pilot. “Well, where is he?”

It might have been suicide--no one was supposed to know who he was--but slowly, Luke moved himself over. 

“Here I am,” he said, “now can we go through?”

But to Luke’s irritation, the pilot frowned. “Wait a minute. You’re a kid!”

“Yeah,” Luke said flatly, “I could say the same about you.”

“All right, all right,” Numa cut in as the pilot opened his mouth. “We know you’re both kids, and you’re both very competent for your age. Can we move on?”

Luke and the pilot glared at one another. 

“All right,” said the pilot, “but you can’t land.”

“What?” Luke demanded. “Why not?”

“Because,” explained the pilot, who had the audacity to look calm about it, “there’s a mission going on down there; Ahsoka Tano herself is going after the Angel of Death. Why, I have no idea, but she can’t be interrupted.” 

“I know she’s down there,” Luke snapped. “She’s about to die!” 

The pilot smirked. “Well. I wasn’t told that. You’re just trying to get past me, aren’t you? I don’t know what your purpose is here, but _my_ purpose is to _stop_ anyone who tries to land without authorization from the Council.”

Luke felt his anger rising. To come this far and be turned away…

“Luke,” Numa warned him. “Stay calm!” 

He ignored her. Instead he sat up, putting himself even further into the pilot’s line of sight, and stabbed a finger at him. 

“Listen here, you self-righteous prat,” he said. “I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m the Starling, I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi’s apprentice, and I am very connected with the Force. But beyond that, I’ve just been on a mission to get top secret information from the Empire. I had to get through incredible security just to do it. A few times I was almost captured. Finally I got the information, and it told me--along with the Force--that Ahsoka Tano is in danger, she’s walking into a trap, and unless I interfere _right now,_ she’s going to _die._ So I don’t care what your purpose is--you’re going to let us through, and you’re going to do it now, unless you want the leader of your operation to perish!” 

He fell silent, half in shock at what he’d just said; and he wasn’t the only one. Numa’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, and the pilot himself looked halfway between terrified and in awe. But Luke realized that he didn’t care, because the way he was feeling now...all the terrible thoughts had gone. 

“You...can pass,” the pilot said reluctantly. “But if you fail--”

“I know, I know,” Luke said wearily; he was sick of being told he was going to fail. “I won’t, all right?”

The pilot looked as if he doubted him, but he nodded. “Fine. Make your landing.” 

Then the hologram winked out. A few seconds later, the Rebel cruiser moved itself to the side. 

Luke gestured at Numa. 

“None of that was in the plans,” she said. “But I think the Council will thank you later.” 

Luke laughed. Smiling back at him, Numa put her hands on the controls, and then the shuttle was moving forward...toward Arorua. 

They were going to save Ahsoka. 

  
  


It was a trap. They’d fallen into a trap.

One second, Rex had been running after Ahsoka; the next, one of the Rebel soldiers was screaming. 

He spun around...and there was a monster the size of a house. 

“Ahsoka,” he shouted. “Ahsoka, we need--”

But she wasn’t there. She’d already vanished into the warehouse. 

“Where’s Ahsoka?” Gregor demanded. 

“It’s a trap,” Rex told him. “I just know it. She’s in that warehouse; and here this thing is. You think that’s a coincidence?”

The creature was no longer attacking them; instead, it prowled around them, as if searching for the next target.

“We’ve got to take this out first,” Wolffe said in a low voice. “Somehow. It can’t be too hard. We faced worse things in the Clone Wars, didn’t we?”

“It’s been a while since the Clone Wars,” Gregor muttered. “And in case you didn’t notice, you have back problems now.” 

“All the same--”

“We need a plan,” Rex said as the creature continued to prowl. “We’ve got these grenade launchers, and our blasters; but I’m willing to bet the blasters won’t work too well. Ahsoka said this place is strong with the Dark Side.” 

“What’s the Force matter to us?” asked one of the Rebel soldiers; a younger one. “We’ll just blast it to hell!” 

“I like your courage,” Rex commended him, “but plain courage never works without a plan, Force or not. We’ve got these grenade launchers, and our blasters. I’d say you distract it with blasters, Wolffe; follow him. Meanwhile, Gregor and I will go back, toward the houses there, and find a point to--”

Without warning, the creature lunged. Only Rex’s instincts, honed first through intense battles and then years of survival, kept him alive; he threw himself backwards and onto the ground. The Rebel soldier next to him--the one who’d spoken up--wasn’t so lucky. One great paw, tipped with sharp claws, caught him in the chest; blood sprayed as he flew through the air and smashed into a nearby house. 

He didn’t get up again. 

Several of the other soldiers shouted, but Rex was already moving. Ignoring the pain in his back, he dragged himself to his knees. Wolffe appeared at his side, concern in his one good eye. 

“You all right?” he asked. 

“Course I am,” Rex said gruffly. “All right, change of plans. Gregor’s already attacking that thing; climb up on one of the houses, take the grenade launchers!”

Wolffe nodded. “Will you be joining me?”

“Soon as I can. I’m going to help focus the attack on that thing.” Rex looked--the thing in question was already tearing into a second soldier. They needed to fix the situation, and fast. “The sooner we kill it--”

Behind him, there was a crash. Both Rex and Wolffe spun around, but it wasn’t the creature; it was the warehouse. Half the roof had caved in. 

_Ahsoka._

“Ahsoka’s in there!” Wolffe exclaimed. 

“She’ll be fine for now,” Rex said, “but she brought us along for a reason. Like I said...the sooner we kill that thing, the sooner we can help her.” 

Wolffe clapped Rex on the back. “Good plan.” 

Rex gave Wolffe a sharp nod; then, without waiting another second, the former clone captain was up and running toward the creature as fast as he could go. 

  
  


Ahsoka Tano had faced numerous opponents in her life. She’d fought Geonosian worms, bounty hunters, pirates, and a former Padawan(who’d also happened to be her friend). She had escaped the entire Jedi Order while on the run, even avoiding her master, Anakin Skywalker. She had even fought Darth Maul, and in subsequent days had escaped the very clone troopers who had been bred to serve her. 

But this warrior, this _assassin,_ was something else. She was small, almost a head shorter than Ahsoka herself; but, incredibly, it worked in the assassin’s favor. She was _fast,_ faster than Maul, faster than Anakin; it was her small size that allowed her to weave under and dodge Ahsoka’s strokes, to throw herself to the side at the last moment. Several times Ahsoka had thought she was about to deal the death blow, or at least wound her enemy, but the next second had seen her thrown to the ground, the red lightsaber inches away, and only Ahsoka’s skill in the Force had helped her to survive.

But beyond that, beyond the horrifying speed, was the sheer _power_ of the assassin’s strokes. It was not apparent immediately--at first, Ahsoka was only focusing on dodging each attack--but soon she realized the danger she was in. Every stroke, every attack, had behind it a well of strength, of immense power. The Angel’s blade hammered on both of hers, forcing her back again and again and again--

Of course, it didn’t help that Ahsoka’s legs were still shaking, that she was still winded from having half the ceiling land on her--

_For Anakin, do it for Anakin--for Rex--you need to help Rex--_

The next stroke sent her flying through the air, one of her blades ripped from her hand. Ahsoka landed hard, skidding along the ground before slamming into the wall. 

_Up. Up, you have to get up!_

Ahsoka blinked her eyes open; something wet and warm trickled down her face, and she touched it gingerly. Blood. 

This _child_ did _not_ get to draw first blood. 

Anger flashed through her. Years ago, she would have been alarmed, but Ahsoka Tano had not been a Jedi for years. In an instant, she’d yanked her second lightsaber back into her hand and threw herself at the Angel of Death. 

The assassin, for the first time, was caught by surprise. She stumbled backward, faltered for just a moment; and Ahsoka seized that moment. She slammed both her blades onto the assassin’s one, pushing at her with all her strength, both physical and in the Force; and, also for the first time, the assassin’s size worked against her. Ahsoka was larger, and so was able to push her down, gradually, just like Anakin used to when he was testing her--

Something slipped. Outside her line of vision, a foot hit her between the ribs; Ahsoka stumbled, thrown backwards, and her first thought was--

_Anakin taught me that trick._

But she didn’t have time to think about it, because now the Angel of Death was on top of her again. The blade hammered against hers, and once more Ahsoka was forced back, forced on the defensive. Ahsoka could _feel_ her opponent’s power; it was obvious in the Force. It drove her on, it was behind every stroke, pushing her back, deeper into the warehouse, even farther from Rex and his team. She happened to be getting stronger by the moment; and as she did, Ahsoka herself seemed to be getting weaker. She was fighting with every instinct she had, every ounce of anger and determination, with everything she’d ever been taught...but this assassin was like nothing she’d ever seen. This assassin would have destroyed Maul within seconds; the bounty hunters would not have even been worth the effort. Ahsoka had _never_ faced anyone this powerful. 

_Except one...and at the time, he was on my side._

But how would it be possible? 

Once again, Ahsoka had cause to wonder; and then another stroke, from the side, distracted her. She had to get up, she had to use her surroundings...except that the assassin had caved in the ceiling. Ahsoka couldn’t get to higher levels.

Now she knew another thing about the assassin. 

Vader’s assassin was _intelligent._

  
  


Arorua was full of trees. 

That was Luke’s first thought as the shuttle entered the atmosphere: it was a planet filled with forests, tall trees reaching up to the sky, pressed closed together. It was a planet he would surely have enjoyed when he was younger; he would have loved to climb to the tops of those trees, to see everything around him. But in the current situation, he could barely even stop to think about. 

Ahsoka Tano, his father’s apprentice, was in grave danger. 

“Do you know where she is?” Numa asked him. 

“I couldn’t sense her before,” Luke said, “but I think we were too far away at the time. I’m going to try again.” 

Numa nodded. “I hate to pressure you, but you’re going to have to do it fast.” 

“Oh, I know.” With a grim smile, Luke closed his eyes and reached into the Force. As before, it was difficult--the darkness that pervaded the planet was overwhelming. Almost immediately, he began to hear the voices...the voices from his past, from the worst moments of his life, and from every frustrating instance since. But all he had to do, he realized, was to tell himself good things, to focus on the _good_ emotions. 

When Obi-Wan had appeared and demanded that Jabba release him. 

When Jabba had not released him and that blue lightsaber had hurled itself through the Hutt, killing him. 

When he’d gone into space for the first time. 

When Obi-Wan had handed him his father’s lightsaber. 

The first time he’d flown an X-Wing, in that simulation. 

When he’d met Senator Organa. 

When he’d fallen through the air. 

When he’d thrown that Inquisitor down the stairs. 

When he’d stuck it to that snobby pilot. 

Now, basking in all those memories, Luke was able to see past the darkness; in an instant, the Force opened up before him, and two presences, two Force users, were laid out before him. 

One was a bright beacon, a presence strong in the Force and reliant on it, full of determination and strength.

And then there was the other: a dark nexus in the Force, a presence void of light, of hope, and of happiness. He supposed there was anger there, darkness, hatred...but more than anything, it was a vessel for the Dark Side of the Force. Nothing light existed there; nothing light would ever exist there. 

It was the Angel of Death. 

Luke shuddered. 

“What is it?” Numa asked him. “Do you know where they are?”

Yes, he could pinpoint where they were. Not Ahsoka specifically--because, to his alarm, her presence was already beginning to weaken--but because of the Angel of Death. He could sense her constantly; now that he knew what she felt like, he could sense her anywhere. And he hated it. 

He opened his eyes. 

And his comlink rang. 

Oh, no. Obi-Wan. 

“Keep flying,” Luke told Numa. “Fly straight ahead.” 

She nodded, and he picked up. 

_“Luke Skywalker!”_ Obi-Wan’s voice rang through the shuttle like the voice of a god, and Luke wanted to sink into himself; he had _never_ heard his master this disappointed. “I cannot believe you would do this. I have never taught you to _willingly_ disobey orders, to fly straight into a situation for which you are not prepared, a situation that will undoubtedly kill you! How could you do such a thing?”

“I,” Luke stammered, unable to say anything useful. “I mean--”

“And don’t try to deny what you have done,” Obi-Wan went on. “We are in hyperspace at the moment, and I can _sense_ that you are on Arorua. If you have any respect for me, and for the Force, and for the Council, you will turn around this instant and wait for our arrival!” 

Luke couldn’t breathe. He’d known Obi-Wan would be this disappointed, but he didn’t--he hadn’t dreamed--

 _You are worth nothing,_ whispered the Dark Side of the Force, and Luke decided he’d had it. 

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry, Master, but your plan would’ve gotten Ahsoka killed. I have Numa with me; she’s going to help me. I’m sorry.”

“Luke--”

He hung up. 

Then he sat there, trying to breathe calmly, feeling guilty and sad and angry and trying to decide what to do with it. He was right to have gone to Arorua, he’d been right...but what if he died? He’d always promised Obi-Wan he would never give him cause to worry...and yet…

“Good job,” Numa said quietly. 

Luke turned to look at her, eyes wide. “W-what?”

“Good job,” she said with a smile. “I know Obi-Wan well, and I know him well enough to know he’s being too protective of you. He’s well-meaning...but in an effort to protect you, we wouldn’t have arrived in time.” She frowned. “Ahsoka’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Luke took several deep breaths, trying to rid himself of the fear that was trying to take over him; because now, now that they were this close, now that he could feel _just how strong_ the Angel of Death was...he was beginning to doubt himself again. “You think I can do this, Numa?”

“What, are you kidding me?” Numa let go of the controls with one hand to ruffle his hair. “I know people don’t believe in you a lot, but then...they haven’t given you a chance to prove yourself, have they? You can absolutely do this. You just fell from the sky, you broke into a facility not even Ahsoka Tano could break into successfully, and you fought an Inquisitor. But, most of all...you knew the right thing to do, when no one else did.” She smiled. “That’s something Padmé Amidala would’ve done.” 

At that particular praise, Luke felt light, lighter than he’d felt all day. He had wanted to honor his father for years, had fought with his father’s saber, had gone into that facility for his father...but in that moment, he realized the person he’d been trying to emulate all these years wasn’t Anakin Skywalker. It was Padmé Amidala. 

“Thanks, Numa,” he whispered, trying not to cry. He could cry when the mission was done. 

He didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into, but he’d get himself out of it. 

He stood up, stepped out of the cockpit, and walked over to the bench. His lightsaber rested on a pile of emergency gear; he’d set it there for the trip. Slowly, he picked it up--his father’s lightsaber--and clipped it to his belt. 

Padmé Amidala, he thought to himself. Mother. What would she do? 

Luke closed his eyes, trying to recall one of the many speeches he’d seen. Trade federation...democracy…

 _I am Padmé Naberrie Amidala,_ she had said once, in a speech following one of the many assassination attempts on her life. _I am a Senator, a former Queen, and a woman of the people...and I am not afraid._

“I’m Luke Skywalker,” Luke whispered to himself. “I am the Starling, and I am _not_ afraid.” 

“How close?” Numa called to him. 

Luke reached into the Force; once again, he felt the Angel’s dark presence. _Not afraid. Not afraid._

“Three miles,” he told her. “Head for that town straight ahead.” 

“Got it. You ready to jump?”

Luke was shaking, but he ignored it; with the Force, he threw the side door open. 

“Ready,” he called back. 

Three miles. 

_I’m Luke Skywalker, and I’m not afraid._

  
  


Six minutes. They would emerge from hyperspace in six minutes; but that was not enough. That was not _nearly_ enough. Luke was on Arorua. Luke was on Arorua, and he’d hung up…

Obi-Wan might never be able to say good-bye to him. 

Such a sweet boy, a wonderful, selfless boy...too selfless. That had been his strength, that had been what made him better than Anakin; but this one time, it worked against him. He cared about others, and that was necessary for a Jedi...but a Jedi also had _wisdom._ A Jedi--especially a _padawan--_ knew not to jump into things without reason. Obi-Wan should have warned him of that. He’d been too busy stressing the “compassion” part of things, he supposed...but he should have stressed that.

And now he might never see Luke again. 

And now the galaxy’s last hope might…

No, forget the galaxy. The galaxy needed him, certainly; but the galaxy did not care about him. Not in the way Obi-Wan did. Luke was not, first and foremost, the galaxy’s hope. 

He was _Obi-Wan’s_ hope. 

He was the only reason for living, for getting up in the morning--

“We’ll find him,” came a voice at his shoulder, and Obi-Wan spun--Bail. “We’ll be on time, Obi-Wan. He can’t be quite there yet.” 

Obi-Wan barely processed the words. 

“I cannot sense him,” he said, staring straight ahead. “I cannot sense him, cannot sense anything; the Force is silent.” He turned to Bail. “I have never asked you this, but what do you think that means?” 

“I can’t say,” Bail said with a sigh. “I don’t understand the Force. But if I could make a guess...it would mean everything is in motion. Nothing is certain.” 

“Yes.” Obi-Wan looked back at the viewport. “That’s what I was afraid of.” 

Five minutes. 

  
  


Rex hadn’t fought like this in years; not since the Clone Wars had he had a reason to attack something much stronger than himself, get knocked down, almost die, and keep getting back up like a man possessed. He was getting older, and he’d started to feel it more keenly in recent years. But now, it was like he hadn’t aged a day. For the first time, he wasn’t just surviving; he was fighting, working for the sake of a Jedi, and a friend. 

The creature was not anywhere near dead. They’d distracted it with their blasters, and had distracted it well; but that only served to make it angrier. Four out of eight soldiers were dead altogether; a fifth was wounded. Rex himself had a nasty gash in his thigh, and Gregor was breathing with difficulty; but the fight was not without victory. 

They’d learned that this creature was weak in the neck. 

The only problem was that, to get close, they had to risk being bitten in half. 

He risked a glance over his shoulder. At long last, Wolffe was set up in the distance, kneeling on a rooftop about a quarter mile back. 

“Concentrate the fire on its throat,” he told Gregor. “Maybe call in Antilles while you’re at it; we could use some help!” 

“Where are you going?” Gregor demanded, but Rex was already running. 

Behind him, the earth shook; there was a shout from Gregor, and Rex threw himself to the side just in time. Beside him, a giant animal leg came crashing down.

The creature was _right there._

Rex had drawn his blaster in an instant; the creature was already bending over him, the horrible mouth lunging downward. Unfortunately, that bared its neck. Rex’s adrenaline was threatening to take over, but he urged himself to remain calm as he fired. 

It drew blood. 

The monster screamed in agony, roared, hissed; Rex seized the opportunity to throw himself to his feet and away. Maybe this had done it...maybe…

The beast staggered, screamed again, and righted itself. 

Not dead. 

And, with a vicious swipe of its forearm, it caught Rex in the back. Before he knew it, he had been thrown through the air and sent hurtling into one of the abandoned houses. 

“Get up!” shouted Wolffe’s voice; he was close. The grenade launchers would be almost ready. “Rex, get up!”

Groaning, the former clone dragged himself to his feet, shouting as pain lanced through his back. 

And there, right in front of him, was the creature. 

  
  


One mile. 

One mile to go. 

_I’m Luke Skywalker, and I am not afraid._

Trees rushed by; trees, and forests, and beautiful hills...they were out of the forest...the town was up ahead...and Luke barely noticed it. All he knew was that Ahsoka and the Angel were straight ahead--

Pain. 

Sudden pain--

Ahsoka’s very life force was beginning to weaken. 

“Numa!” he shouted. “We’re running out of time!”

Numa didn’t respond, not in words; instead, the shuttle went faster, tearing across the planet at a speed Luke didn’t know was possible. Closer, they were closer…

Closer to success...or doom. 

What if he arrived, and Ahsoka was dead? 

What if he arrived, and the Angel of Death was waiting to kill _him?_

He had always, always hated waiting. Now he hated it more than ever. Waiting wasn’t so bad, really, when he was just waiting for it to be lunch...but it was horrid when it all depended on life and death. 

_Please...please let her be alive…_

His father’s Padawan could not die…

They had reached the town. 

“I’m ready!” Luke shouted. “Bring me down!” 

“I can’t,” Numa yelled back. “I’ll knock over the houses!”

He had to do it, he knew that. _I am not afraid, I am not afraid--_

_Mother--Father--be with me._

He had to trust the Force. 

Closing his eyes, Luke jumped. 

  
  


How? How had it come to this? 

How was it possible that she could fight a renegade Sith Lord, survive the Purges, run dozens of Rebel missions, and be killed by a mere assassin? 

But Ahsoka knew how it was true; it was worthless to ruminate about it. This assassin, rightfully named the _Angel of Death,_ was strong with the Force, well-trained, and ruthless. That combination was deadly. 

There was a _reason_ she was called the Angel of Death. 

Whenever she showed up, it meant you’d been selected to die. 

Ahsoka had laughed at that, earlier; no Force user would believe that. All depended on the will of the Force, not the will of some _assassin._

But now, as she was thrown back again and again, she was beginning to think it might be true. If only...if only she could break through to this assassin...but it was impossible. The Angel of Death was ruthless; that much was obvious. 

But all the same, Ahsoka Tano was _not_ going to give in. If she was going to die, she would die fighting. 

And she was not going to die. 

Not when Rex was fighting for his life. 

_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me…_

Once, seventeen years ago, those words had saved Rex’s mind. Now, they would save his life. 

Ahsoka felt the Force flow through her, stronger than before, and with a snarl, she pushed back against the blood red blade; at last, at long last something gave, and the Angel of Death was hurled backwards. 

“There,” Ahsoka hissed, bringing both her blades down on the assassin’s, “now you understand--”

Without warning, the Dark Side _exploded._ Every ounce of rage, hatred, and anger that existed was thrown against her; and in an instant, Ahsoka’s defenses crumpled; both lightsabers were thrown from her hands. She stared in horror at the assassin, at the horrid mask leering at her, at the yellow eyes peering into her soul--

Pain, hot and horrible, flashed in her side. 

Ahsoka brought her hands back, pressing both of them against her side--wait--wait, then the assassin would kill her--

Desperately, with a yell, and with the last of her strength, she threw out a hand. 

The assassin didn’t budge. 

Horrified, horrified and in terrible pain, Ahsoka sank to her knees. 

She had learned a last thing about this assassin, she thought as the Angel of Death stalked closer, a last thing, from the fact that the wound was in her _side,_ a non-lethal place...something that would cause pain, but would not give the sweet mercy of immediate death…

The Angel of Death was cruel. 

  
  


Life, or death. Light, or dark. This was what even the Force did not know; this was what hung in the balance. Everything seemed tipped towards darkness. A Jedi, well versed in the Force, was driven by fear and anger. A seasoned warrior had lost. Anakin Skywalker’s former apprentice lay at the mercy of a ruthless assassin, the Angel of Death. This was all by design; this was what Darth Vader had foreseen. He had seen darkness, and death, and at long last, revenge for being left alone. The Rebellion was over; the Empire would be returned to its full strength...and then, following this great test of his assassin’s ability, the Emperor would die. 

And _he_ would be Emperor. 

And then, there would be peace. 

There was nothing but death, and darkness, and bitterness, and the galaxy would have it. What he had seen, in the Force, would come to pass. 

But in every perfect experiment, there is an independent variable, something that acts freely of everything else; something either expected, or not expected. 

It was not expected.

Because, of course, Darth Vader was not aware of the existence of the Starling.

  
  


Over the ruin of the town, the chaos the creature had created, the smashed houses, over the darkness of the Angel’s presence, ran Luke Skywalker. He had never run like this before in his life; he had never _felt_ anything like this. He was sure to be exhausted later, driven so hard by adrenaline, but at the moment, he felt nothing. 

Nothing but the Force. 

The Force was with him, stronger than it had ever been before. He had felt Ahsoka’s presence, had felt the Angel; but until now, he had not sensed how strong _he_ was. He had power, he realized now, power that sang through his veins, strength that could carry him to do anything. 

And it was pure _light._

There was chaos, up ahead; houses had been smashed to piece; there was a creature of the Dark Side, causing ruin and death and destruction. And before him was a barrier, caused by at least four houses that had fallen; it was at least ten meters high. Usually, he would have balked. 

Now, he didn’t care. 

The shuttle was behind him, supporting him as always; but even if Numa hadn’t been there, Luke would have acted anyway. He ran faster, willing the Force to move him, leaped up what must have once been a ceiling, and threw himself into the air. 

_I am not afraid._

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion; Luke sensed everything around him, simultaneously. There was Numa, exultant, behind him; the creature of darkness, right under him; there were the soldiers fighting for their lives, also ahead; there was his father’s apprentice, on the edge of the death; there was the void in the Force that was the Angel of Death. 

The creature could be dispatched easily. 

In midair, Luke drew his lightsaber. 

The creature turned, slowly, from its prey.

Too late. Luke seized his lightsaber with both hands, landed on the creature’s spiny back, and drove it through the monster’s neck. 

In the Force, he felt the thing die. 

Turning a front flip through the air, he landed on the ground, the Force singing through him. Behind, the creature collapsed. 

The soldier who’d been about to die, a greying man wearing armor, looked up at him in awe. There was a flash of something in the man’s eyes, of recognition--he’d saved him, Luke realized. He’d saved someone. 

_“Skywalker,”_ mouthed the man. He knew who Luke was. 

But there was no time to wonder. Luke saluted the man briefly, experienced a moment of happiness at the sheer joy that spread across the man’s face, then took off. 

_Please don’t let her be dead, please…_

The momentary happiness was gone; Luke could sense his father’s apprentice in pain, could sense her terrible desperation...and beyond that, he could sense the triumph of the assassin. 

_You will not win._

Determination seized him, and in an instant, he’d thrown the door open. 

The assassin was standing over the prone form of Ahsoka Tano, lightsaber raised above the Togruta’s chest; slowly, very slowly, she turned around, that awful void focusing in on Luke, centering on him. For a moment, there was nothing but fear as Luke took in a mask that seemed to gape at him, as he took in yellow eyes that stared directly at him...straight to his soul. 

Then he remembered his mother. 

_It’s something Padmé Amidala would do._

Luke dropped his lightsaber. 

“I am not afraid,” he whispered. 

He closed his eyes, ignored the fact that the assassin was running toward him, gathered up every ounce of strength and determination he possessed, every desire to prove himself...and threw all of it at the assassin. 

_I am not afraid!_

There was a crash. 

Luke opened his eyes. 

He had thrown the Angel of Death through the air, into the wall, and out the other side. 

Joy, and disbelief flooded him--but there was no time. The assassin would be back in a minute. Luke ran forward, gathered up his lightsaber, and dropped to his knees by Ahsoka Tano’s side. 

She was bleeding...she was wounded…

But all the same, she opened her eyes. 

She was going to live. 

“Come on,” Luke said, stretching out a hand; then he decided he’d better introduce himself. “I’m Luke Skywalker, and I’m here to rescue you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhh I can't believe this, it's the fastest I've EVER updated this, but I couldn't stop writing! Don't expect updates this fast in the future, but I NEEDED to get this chapter out.


	9. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke tries to get the wounded Ahsoka off Arorua before the Angel can catch up.

She was dreaming. She was dreaming, she had to be dreaming…

Or else she had died. 

That was the only possible explanation. The last thing she had felt was burning, scalding pain in her side, spreading through her...sapping her life’s force...and then it was gone, and...and…

_ “Skywalker...here to rescue you…” _

She didn’t believe it. She didn’t believe the face that hovered above her now, young...framed by shaggy blond hair, with blue eyes and a desperate sort of smile on his face...but she was seeing it all the same. 

She had died. She had passed on, become one with the Force…

And now she was able to see her old Master, once again. 

“Skyguy,” she murmured. “Anakin…”

But to her surprise, Anakin’s face recoiled in confusion. 

_ That’s not Anakin,  _ something inside her said,  _ it’s not him-- _

And maybe it wasn’t; he wasn’t quite as tall, the hair was shorter, the nose different...she didn’t understand. 

“Not him,” said the voice; it was young, earnest, and...regretful. “Sorry, I’m not him. I’m his son, I’m Luke.” There was a hand in her face, the...boy’s hand. “Can you walk?”

Anakin’s son. Luke. Luke Skywalker. 

Suddenly, Ahsoka remembered. 

She couldn’t walk; she could barely even think, could barely breathe. But the desperation in his voice...the Angel of Death had been about to kill her. They would be in danger. 

She had to make herself walk, for Anakin. 

“Put…” She could barely speak; it was an effort to even force the words past her lips. “Put something...stop the bleeding.” 

Anakin--no,  _ Luke _ \--looked confused only for a moment. Then, he moved--a moment later, she felt something pressed against her side, and she almost screamed; but a moment later, she didn’t feel blood draining from her any longer. 

“Ah...good,” she gasped; she could still hardly see. Luke was almost a blur. “Good.”

“Can you walk?” he asked again. “It’s all right if you can’t.” 

She could not. But she had to; they must escape the Angel. 

Ahsoka closed her eyes, relaxing into the Force. Finding her center, the nexus of her strength, was difficult, with pain spearing through her, as she could barely stay conscious...so she focused instead on the one memory that had always kept her grounded. 

_ “I have something for you...they’re as good as new. Maybe even a little better.” _

That face, the face she thought she’d seen a moment ago, danced in front of her eyes, the smile hiding a world of weariness...and so did the face of his son. 

Ahsoka opened her eyes fully. 

She had to help Anakin’s son. 

“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth, continuing to press the cloth to her side. “I can walk.” 

  
  


The moment they arrived over Arorua, Obi-Wan sensed it: Luke was in danger. He reached into the Force, desperate to find some kernel of foresight, the tiniest hint of what might come next...but he could find nothing. There was absolutely nothing for him in the Force, the essence that was so constantly with him; he could not predict what was going to happen. 

Of course. Luke was unpredictable. 

Fortunately, Obi-Wan did not have to march about the ship shouting orders; that was not his nature, and that job at the moment had fallen to Bail Organa. As calm as he had seemed earlier, he, too, was beyond anxious about Luke. Both men shared the responsibility over what had happened to Leia; they would not allow it to happen again.

“Get us down there immediately,” the senator demanded. “Contact Ahsoka’s vessel, tell the pilot we will need his aid; the Starling and Ahsoka Tano are both the number one priority. We must move quickly!” 

In minutes, they had contacted Ahsoka’s pilot, one Wedge Antilles, and were on the way down to Arorua’s surface. They were coming down quickly, at a speed that might be dangerous for the transport vessel, but…

But it was not fast enough. 

It was not  _ nearly  _ fast enough. 

Obi-Wan knew, from years and years of space travel and last-minute rescues, that the landing would take at least ten minutes, and at this point the stress was growing too much. He had called upon the Force, upon every calming technique he knew, but for once in his life nothing was happening. He had to control himself. 

“Alert me when we are landing,” he told Bail. “I am going to meditate.”

Bail looked concerned, but simply nodded. Obi-Wan moved past him, ignoring the stares of every other man and woman on the ship, passed into his private chamber, and locked the door. Then, taking a deep breath, he sat down, closed his eyes, and immersed himself in the Force. 

  
  


Luke could hardly believe what had happened. He had blown the Angel of Death backward out of the warehouse--Ahsoka was alive--he’d met his father’s Padawan--and they were running away. He’d done it. He’d done what he’d come to do, he’d accomplished the mission that had seemed so impossible to him…

Well. Not yet. Technically it was only half done. 

He still had to get Ahsoka  _ off the planet.  _

They moved at a slow speed, barely running for the sake of Ahsoka’s injuries; she was barely alive, and yet was somehow half-running. Luke didn’t understand it, he knew  _ he  _ would not be able to do that...but then, Numa  _ had  _ said Ahsoka was extremely powerful. 

She’d been trained by his father. It made sense. 

So far, Vader’s assassin had not made an appearance; that was strange. Luke would have thought she’d be up and running immediately, given that she was an incredibly powerful Sith and he’d just blasted her out the back of the warehouse...but if she hadn’t appeared yet, either she had a different plan in mind…

Or he’d  _ actually  _ injured her. 

_ Who are you kidding? She’s the Angel of Death! She’s going to come back soon… _

But Luke was monitoring her presence in the Force, and she...seemed genuinely unconscious. Maybe, just maybe…

“Ride,” Ahsoka gasped at his side. “Do you have a ride off this shithole?”

“Oh!” He’d forgotten, he’d completely forgotten--Numa had to be wondering what was going on. “Sorry about that. Yeah.” 

Quickly, Luke took the comlink out of his pocket. 

“Luke!” Numa’s voice came through, sounding more worried than ever. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

“We’re coming in your direction,” Luke said. “At least, the last place I saw you.” 

_ “We?”  _ He could hear the disbelief in her voice. “You mean--”

“Ahsoka’s with me, yeah--are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” 

Then there was a click. Numa had hung up. 

“She’s coming,” Luke said to Ahsoka, who looked more miserable than ever; her head was hanging down toward her chest, though she stood up straighter as soon as Luke spoke. “She’ll be here.” 

Ahsoka only nodded, and Luke’s concern spiked. She was  _ really  _ wounded; how could he be sure Numa would arrive in time? 

“It’s okay,” he told her. “She’ll get us out of here--”

Ahsoka’s snapped open, suddenly, and then Luke realized there was danger in the Force. Sithspit, he  _ really  _ had to get better about noticing those things--

“Down!” she gasped. “Behind us!” 

Luke spun around, hand already on his lightsaber; but before he could even ignite it, the Force  _ slammed  _ into him, and he was thrown off his feet. Midair, he regained control enough to avoid being thrown into the building behind him; but all the same, it was a rough landing. 

_ The Angel,  _ he realized,  _ the Angel of Death, I should’ve known-- _

Opening his eyes, he watched as the figure in black strode toward him, that mask gaping...the red lightsaber drawn…

No. Not him. 

She was walking towards Ahsoka. 

  
  


Pain. Death. Darkness. Misery. Fear. 

That was all that Obi-Wan Kenobi could see in the Force. There was hardly any light left; Luke was in danger. Ahsoka was in danger. The entire Rebellion was in danger of destruction...the Empire was ready to rise for good…

Fear. Hatred. Self-destruction. The tools of the Dark Side. Obi-Wan knew he must look past them, that they were not all that existed...but they were all that he could see. 

_ I hate you, I hate you, I hate you… _

Anakin’s voice,  _ Vader’s  _ voice, full of intense fury and loathing and the need for revenge, echoed again and again and again, a reminder of what he had caused, what the Jedi Order had caused...what Obi-Wan had turned his best friend into. It was  _ his _ strict dedication to the Jedi,  _ his _ ignorance of Anakin’s needs and fears and insecurities, that had wrought this horror...and thanks to that, his own daughter was dead, his son was almost dead...he had targeted  _ his own Padawan  _ for this hatred, this desire to have revenge on Obi-Wan…

_ “Obi-Wan.”  _

It was not Anakin’s voice. Not Padme, not any of the Jedi who he had killed by his mistake…

_ “Obi-Wan.”  _

Obi-Wan knew that voice. He opened his eyes. 

There was a shimmering blue light in front of him. But beyond that...there was...

“Qui-Gon,” he said. 

Qui-Gon, or rather his spirit in the Force, smiled sadly at him. For several moments, the former master and apprentice simply looked at one another. 

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said at last, “you are in danger.” 

“I?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I am not in danger. But Luke is...Anakin’s son is in danger, and I...I do not know how to help him.” 

“Luke’s fate is up to the Force,” Qui-Gon said. “I cannot see it. But you...you are in  _ worse  _ danger, my old friend. While Luke’s life may be at risk, ultimately he remains a true Jedi unto the end...but you, Obi-Wan, it is your soul that is at risk.” 

“My…” Obi-Wan could hardly comprehend what Qui-Gon was saying. “You think I am in danger of the Dark Side?”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said, in that resonant voice. “You do not recognize it because of what you have undergone these past years...but yes, you are in danger of the Dark Side. Do you not see it? You are ruled by your fear, Obi-Wan. At every turn, you fear that something may happen to Luke--you seek to control his destiny.” 

“I…” Obi-Wan had to admit that he was terrified for Luke; it was all that was on his mind these days, but… “I do confess that I have not been able to get past my fear about him lately, but--”

“Lately?” Qui-Gon shook his head. “No, Obi-Wan. You have dealt with this since Leia’s disappearance. It has been steadily growing within you, but now...now it is growing dangerous.” 

Suddenly, Obi-Wan was overcome by anger. 

“And why did you not say anything?” he demanded. “You knew that this was happening, yet you said nothing to me. This is the first I have heard from you in years!” 

“Obi-Wan, listen to yourself.” Qui-Gon sighed. “Your fear has already turned into anger--you must not give in to it. And beyond that...I suspect that you know why I have not contacted you. My time is past; yours is still going on. I cannot guide your life for you. That you must do yourself.” 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Much as he hated to admit it, Qui-Gon was right. 

“But...you must understand,” he said desperately. “I would not be this anxious if Leia were alive, but...but I promised Padme that I would watch over her children, I swore to Yoda that I would protect both of them...and I failed. Luke is all that I have left, that the galaxy has left! Would you tell me  _ not  _ to protect him?” 

“No,” Qui-Gon said, “but what you are doing goes beyond mere protection. Obi-Wan, you cannot let go of Luke, and you must.” 

_ How  _ could he say that? 

“I respect you, Qui-Gon,” he said thinly, “but I never took you for a hypocrite. If I am having problems with attachment, I understand, but how can you lecture me for that? You, who told me how the Jedi Code was flawed, that we must seek to have more compassion than they tell us to--who must  _ revel  _ in the relationships we have with others, and not seek to isolate ourselves?”

“That is all true,” Qui-Gon said; somehow, he was remaining utterly calm, and Obi-Wan did not attribute that solely to the fact that he had become one with the Force. Qui-Gon had always been like that, even in life. “But what you have with Luke is beginning to border on dangerous. It comes from a place of love; you are his mentor. But beyond that...beyond that, Obi-Wan, you strive to keep him from  _ every  _ kind of danger, from everything that might befall him. Can’t you see it? You are trying not only to protect him, but to control him, even unconsciously; and if he were to die...in this state of mind, you would be likely to fall.” 

To  _ fall.  _ How could Qui-Gon suggest such a thing? When the same had happened to Anakin, when it had been all Obi-Wan had sought to avoid for years--

“Listen to me,” Qui-Gon went on before Obi-Wan could speak. “Or rather, listen to the Force...not the Dark. Not the Light, either. Listen simply to the  _ Force,  _ in its entirety.” He smiled wryly. “I suspect you have not done so for months, at least.” 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, ready to retort--

And then he realized the truth. Anger, at the moment, was his primary motivator, the same anger that had driven Anakin to insanity. He had not seen this inside himself; or, maybe, he had simply grown adept at ignoring it. 

So he nodded, closed his eyes, and listened. 

There was darkness; there had always been darkness, pervasive and terrifying and all-encompassing. But in the midst of that...there was also light. There was happiness, contentment, peace. There were two sides...and only one, from what Obi-Wan could see, was worth using. There was not only darkness. There was hatred, to be sure, but also compassion. There was death, but victory; failure, but life. 

There was the Force. 

The Force was with him. The Force was with him, and with Luke, and with Ahsoka, no matter what the outcome was. Obi-Wan felt it at once: there was darkness and light in the balance--there was the Force. There was hope. 

And no matter what else, there was him. Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

And for years, until this very moment, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s presence had been tainted towards the dark. 

He saw it at once: Anakin, the child who had laughed, who had pulled pranks on other Jedi younglings, who had danced with Padme at a gala, the brightest smile on his face…

There was Anakin, face contorted in rage, choking Padme within an inch of her life.

_ “You will not take her from me!”  _ he had screamed, and suddenly Obi-Wan understood. 

He opened his eyes. 

“I...I am sorry, Master,” he said, feeling a tear run down the side of his face. “You were right. I did not see, until now...how...how  _ could  _ I?”

“That does not matter,” Qui-Gon said gently. “All that matters is what you do now.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. For the first time in years, he felt his old resolve returning: his resolve to keep going, with a smile on his face, no matter how much torment and darkness he was forced to face. 

“I will not let go of Luke,” he said, “because we were right. You were right, first; and then I was right in trying to encourage Luke to embrace my emotions, to encourage myself to form deeper bonds with others. But…” He drew in a deep breath, and then slowly released it. This was the hardest part, but it was also right. “But I will not seek to control him. I will let him live.”

Qui-Gon smiled and dipped his head.

Obi-Wan returned the smile, feeling for once confident. He was not completely optimistic about how the situation might go; Luke was still in danger of death. But no matter what happened...the Force was not wholly Dark. And for once, ever since Leia’s death, Obi-Wan was free. 

Leia’s  _ death.  _

Suddenly, he remembered something Qui-Gon had said. 

“Master,” he said, “what did you mean when you mentioned Leia’s  _ disappearance?  _ Isn’t she...dead?”

There was a rather interesting look in Qui-Gon’s eyes. 

“I truly do not know,” he said. “I have not seen her, in the netherworld of the Force, for ten years. I always found that curious. But then, since she was a child, and untrained in the ways of the Force...I may simply be unable to find her.” 

Obi-Wan could hardly comprehend that. It seemed to suggest a multitude of things: either Leia was not dead, or she was dead but not in the way that Force users were, or that she was somewhere between life and death...or that she was not dead at all. 

“I cannot know,” Qui-Gon said. “Perhaps it is important...perhaps not. You may have to investigate that yourself. But I...would worry first about the sibling whose whereabouts you are certain of.” 

“I can never be certain of Luke’s whereabouts.” Obi-Wan chuckled, in spite of himself. “He is too unpredictable.” 

Qui-Gon smiled at that. “Just like his father, then.” 

And then, without another word, he was gone. 

Obi-Wan stood up slowly, feeling a new determination fill him. He was completely calm, not completely at peace; that would happen after the entire situation was resolved. But for once, for  _ once,  _ he had confidence in his own abilities…

And he had confidence in Luke. 

There was a knock on his door. 

“Come in,” Obi-Wan said, unlocking the door with the Force. 

Instantly, the door flew open, and Bail Organa entered, looking like the picture of a storm. Interesting, Obi-Wan thought, how after just several minutes with Qui-Gon Jinn, everyone else seemed as if they were moving too fast. 

Perhaps that was a lesson to be learned. 

_ Always more to learn, we have,  _ Yoda had said once; and now Obi-Wan understood it. For years he had been tending toward the Dark Side, driven by fear over what had happened to Leia, and only now did he realize his folly: he had assumed that since he was old, and well learned in the Force, that he was impervious to evil.

No more. 

He was always learning. 

“What is it, Bail?” he asked. 

“We’re almost there,” Bail said. “What’s wrong?”

“For the first time in ten years,” Obi-Wan said, “absolutely nothing.” 

  
  


It was the General’s son. 

Luke Skywalker. 

_ General Skywalker’s son.  _

Commander Rex had never seen him before now; he had only heard about him, from Ahsoka, and from others. General Skywalker’s son had not done much of anything up until now, and Rex had always wondered just how much Luke Skywalker was like Anakin. He’d never heard about the kid, besides the fact that he was running small missions; why, he had thought, was Skywalker’s kid not in the middle of the action? Was the Rebellion keeping him from harm on purpose? Or did he simply...not  _ want  _ to take part in battle?

Then he’d seen the kid practically materialize in midair, unleash a lightsaber that looked identical to General Skywalker’s--maybe it was the same one--carve through the neck of a terrifying monster like it was nothing, shoot him a grin, and run off to save Ahsoka’s life. 

Now he had no more doubts. 

Luke Skywalker was  _ Anakin’s  _ son, without question. 

And that meant he, Commander Rex, had to be there to help him. 

He hadn’t seen him ever since he’d gone in to save Ahsoka; he’d only heard a crash. He had no idea what had happened, but the Angel of Death would not go down easily. 

“Rex!” Skidding through the dirt, Wolffe came to a stop next to his friend. With difficulty, Rex raised his head; his back was on fire. “Rex, what happened? Can you move?”

“I can,” Rex said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to a standing position. He’d fought through worse injuries; he could fight through this one. “Because Skywalker needs us.” 

Commander Wolffe was an old Clone trooper. He had served with Jedi Master Plo Koon, who had led him and his brothers through some of the worst battles he’d ever experienced. He’d seen innocent civilians blown to hell. He’d lost sight in his left eye. He’d read Rex’s report on Fives and, just in case, had his bio chip removed...which meant that he had watched as his brothers gunned down his former General, who had cared for them almost like no Jedi ever could. He had experienced all that, and he was old now, nearing retirement. After Order 66, he had assumed the old days were behind him, that he was only fighting with the Rebellion because it was the best thing he could do; he didn’t expect them to do anything great. With the Jedi gone, nothing great could ever happen again. 

But in an instant, as Rex spoke the words, an old fire lit in his eyes; and suddenly, Commander Wolffe was a young clone trooper again, watching at General Plo Koon’s side, in awe of the squadron fighting alongside them, and the miracle-working, death-defying man leading it. 

Commander Wolffe smiled grimly. 

“I’m right behind you, Rex,” he said. 

  
  


His head was spinning from being thrown into the building--actually, every inch of his body  _ ached,  _ but he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Because in the back of his mind, all he knew was that the Angel of Death was trying to kill Ahsoka Tano, and he was still the  _ only  _ one who could do anything about it. 

“Hey--” The word came out as a croak, dragged out of him as he forced himself upright. 

The Angel didn’t move. She only kept walking steadily, blade drawn, toward Ahsoka, who was still struggling to get up. The Angel’s head didn’t even turn; it was if she hadn’t seen Luke at all. 

Well. 

Then he would  _ make her  _ see him _.  _

“Hey!” he shouted, louder, and started to walk toward her. “Hey!” 

She kept walking. 

She was mere meters away from Ahsoka. 

Luke’s heart hammered in his chest; all he wanted was to get  _ away  _ from her, to run from that horrid gaping mask, to never see her again and to pretend this hadn’t happened. But, against all odds, he kept walking. 

_ I can’t let Ahsoka die.  _

_ I can’t let Ahsoka die.  _

Ahsoka was scrambling backwards, but the assassin was almost there--

“STOP!” he yelled. 

She froze, but did not turn. 

Then, Luke drew his lightsaber.

Finally, slowly, as if realizing his presence for the first time, the Angel of Death turned to look at him. And now it was Luke’s turn to freeze. Because that strength had been turned on him, once--for one second, before he’d thrown her out of the warehouse. But now there was nowhere to go, nowhere to turn; he could not escape that awful void in the Force, that black nothingness that was ready to swallow him in his entirety. There was nothing there, in the presence that swooped down on him; only black, empty darkness. Nothing...but the desire for death. For blood. 

The Angel of Death stared at him for a long time. She did not move. But she didn’t have to; under her gaze, Luke felt the Dark Side, stronger than he’d ever felt it before. What he had felt earlier was only a shadow of it, but now he felt it in its full strength: anger. Fear. Self-loathing, loathing for others, despair...fury...bitterness...emptiness...meaninglessness...death. 

Then, unbidden, a voice spoke in his mind--a memory. 

_ “That’s something Padme Amidala would’ve done.”  _

It had only been a few minutes ago, but it felt like forever. 

_ “Skywalker,”  _ the unknown man had said, as he’d destroyed the creature. 

He was like his mother. 

And he was also like his father. 

Both of his parents lived in him. And suddenly, suddenly Luke remembered the words--

_ I am Luke Skywalker, and I am not afraid.  _

He drew back from the Angel’s presence, yanked himself away from it. 

He opened his eyes. 

And just in time; because the next second, her lightsaber had come down toward him. 

And in one smooth movement, he was bringing his up to meet it. 

Immediately, Luke regretted it. The full weight of the Angel of Death’s lightsaber, on his, all that power, that rage, focused on him--

He threw himself back, before it could knock him over completely. The Angel swung at him--he barely avoided it. Then again, and again; she was furious, and Luke was almost killed again and again. Somehow, he was missing her strokes at the last minute, and he didn’t understand it--but he wasn’t complaining. 

Without warning, he felt a terrible push from the Force, and then he was thrown back again. Midair, that red lightsaber scythed toward him--

_ I am not afraid.  _

The Force was with him. Luke seized control of it, and of his own body, and turned in a flip over her head, landing on the ground behind her.

She spun around with a snarl and swung at him, but there was no skill in it--only pure rage. 

“Who ARE you?” she demanded. 

She hated him. 

Of course she did. He’d ruined her brilliant plan. 

“No one important, really,” he gasped, as she swung at him again, and with a yelp, he ducked and jumped back up. 

Luke only felt blind fury in the Force before he was blown backward, over his head, and skidded across the ground; his head smacked into the wall. 

_ Ahsoka, get to Ahsoka-- _

He opened his eyes, and with a groan, dragged himself back on his feet. 

He’d had nothing to worry about. The assassin was no longer after Ahsoka. 

She was running toward him, at full speed. 

And then he was ducking, and moving, and barely surviving as she bashed her lightsaber into houses behind him, as windows were shattered and pieces of glass stuck in his skin. And still he didn’t stop moving. 

He was alive. 

He was alive, still, and the Force was with him. 

Even as he had the thought, the lightsaber lanced across his vision; with a shout, Luke leaped out of the way. 

In his place, part of the fencing was sheared clean. 

She was going to kill him. 

He had to do something about that. 

_ Skywalker. Skywalker.  _

_ It’s something Padme Amidala would have done.  _

Luke shouted, stretched out his hands, and threw the Force at Vader’s assassin, just as he’d done before. 

She didn’t fly through the air this time; but she was pushed back several meters, skidding along the ground and almost dropping her saber before she stopped herself and picked it up. 

Luke took a deep breath and brandished his lightsaber. 

The assassin  _ screamed,  _ a feral sound that sent chills down his spine. “ _ WHO ARE YOU?” _

She wanted to know. If he was talking, he was alive. 

“Oh, you wanna know?” He smirked. “I’m the Starling.” 

“Then,  _ Starling,”  _ she said, “you will step back, or you will die quickly. Do not deny me my prey.” 

Each word sounded forced, as though she had to think about it before she spoke. 

Luke had never been more terrified in his life. He was living on borrowed time, he knew that; she’d thrown him all over the city, and it would be impossible for Numa to find him...but one glance at Ahsoka told him all he needed to know. 

“No,” he said, his voice shaking. “I will  _ not  _ let you kill Ahsoka Tano.” 

The Angel tilted her head--and then she raised a hand. Luke didn’t know what would happen, but he knew she was a Sith--he knew she could do all kinds of terrible things--

The Force surrounded him, and not in a good way. 

This was of the Dark Side. 

This was horrible. 

And suddenly, Luke realized that he couldn’t breathe. 

The lightsaber fell from his hand. 

She was choking him. 

“No!” he screamed, the word tearing against his throat, and he kicked, desperate to escape; but there was no escape. “NO!” 

The Angel squeezed tighter. 

_ Fight,  _ something whispered inside him.  _ Fight for Ahsoka… _

The grip loosened, ever so slightly. And then--

“Get away from him!” someone roared--a male voice--and the grip loosened entirely. Luke hit the ground with a thump, darkness temporarily closing in...and then, as his vision cleared, as Luke struggled to focus, he stared in awe. The Angel of Death was being attacked by three...old men. 

No, he realized as he focused more. Clone troopers. Those were clone troopers.

Luke coughed, dragging in a breath; that had been close. That had been close. But he was still alive. And they wouldn’t last long. 

Slowly, staggering a little, he dragged himself to his feet. Where was his lightsaber?

“Here,” said a weak voice near him--Ahsoka. She was across the road from him, and his lightsaber was lying next to her. 

Smiling, Luke began to walk towards it. 

Then the assassin screamed again. 

Luke froze. 

The three clone troopers, as he’d expected, had gone flying; and once again, the Angel of Death, ever persistent, was coming towards him--running, this time. She was desperate. He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel it. Her entire presence was desperation, and she wanted him--she wanted both of them--dead. 

She was meters away. 

Luke pulled his lightsaber into his hand with the Force, but he couldn’t do much else; she’d choke him again, and this time it would be worse. He was barely standing...but he’d have to do it. 

For Ahsoka. 

For his parents. 

Luke took a deep breath and ignited his lightsaber. 

Then, a voice spoke in his head. 

_ Luke.  _ It was gentle, and ever so mischievous.  _ Move a little to the left, please. _

Confused, Luke moved toward Ahsoka. 

The Angel didn’t. She was looking up. 

At the wreck of houses that was lifted in the air and  _ thrown  _ at her. 

What followed was a crash that shook the entire town. 

Luke coughed, and coughed again, his throat dry and burning as he inhaled dust and smoke; Ahsoka would be in a worse position. She couldn’t have that getting in her wound. So, even as he wanted to pass out, Luke bent himself forwards, covering her body. 

Then the dust cleared. 

Luke didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to move again in his life; he was exhausted, his head throbbed, his body ached all over, his throat burned, and he could feel himself shaking. But he had to know, he had to know who’d done it--if it was an enemy, or--

He jumped up and turned around. 

There, standing at the edge of the town, was Obi-Wan. 

Behind him was an Alliance ship, Numa, and Bail Organa. 

Luke froze. He opened his mouth, stunned, then closed it. Between rescuing Ahsoka and the fight with the Angel, he had completely forgotten he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

Slowly, Obi-Wan walked forward, until he was standing in front of him. 

Luke swallowed. He was in  _ so _ much trouble. 

“I--” He could barely speak; the words felt like fire. “I--I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I promise, I didn’t want to--I was just going to do my job--but I had to, I’m sorry--”

“You’re sorry, are you?” Obi-Wan said sternly.

Luke nodded, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“No, Luke,” his master said, and Luke’s mouth fell open. “It is  _ I  _ who should be apologizing. I have been wrong, this entire time--I have been protecting you too much. I should have trusted you. I did not think you would be good enough...but you have been. And you are. I was wrong, and I apologize.” 

Luke couldn’t believe it. He’d never expected...was he dreaming?

“You--” he stammered. “You mean it?”

“I do,” Obi-Wan said, and a smile broke across his face. “Luke, I have never been more proud of you.” 

Luke blinked; and then he blinked again. 

And then Obi-Wan surprised him further by putting his arms around him, and--and he was being hugged. 

Now Luke didn’t bother to hide his tears. He knew they had to get out of there, the Angel of Death was definitely not dead, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep on the spot, they were in danger...but he didn’t care. 

It was true. 

His master  _ did  _ believe in him. 

Smiling, Luke leaned into Obi-Wan’s embrace and hugged him back. 


	10. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief scene of Vader interrogating Leia(the Angel of Death, of course). Not graphic, but if you dislike Vader being cruel to either of his children, take care of yourselves and skip that.

The Angel of Death was, quite obviously, not dead. Obi-Wan had crushed her with a ton of brick, but Luke could feel that dark void in the Force; it was dimmed, unconscious, but still vibrant.

“We have to leave,” he told Obi-Wan, pulling away from the hug. “The Angel is still alive--”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said grimly. “She will not die so easily.”

The thought filled Luke with foreboding, but he pushed it away. There were more important things at the moment. 

“And...and Ahsoka.” He licked his chapped lips and turned to look over his shoulder. Ahsoka was still conscious, but barely; her eyes blinked open and closed, as if she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. “She needs help, we need to get her onto a ship.” 

Obi-Wan looked as though he wanted to say something else, but he simply nodded. 

“We have several transports,” he said, “with good medical equipment, and excellent droids. She’ll be fine.” 

There was a roar from overhead, and Luke looked up, alarmed; but it was only Numa’s ship. Poor Numa, he realized. She must have been searching for him this whole time while he was trying to keep away from the Angel. 

The ship landed in a cloud of dust, and immediately Numa was running outside; when she saw Luke with Obi-Wan, she stopped short. 

Then she squeezed him tight in a hug. 

_ I’ve gotten hugged a lot today,  _ Luke thought to himself. 

“I’m so sorry, Luke,” Numa gasped, pulling back. “I tried to get to you, I really did, but the clones were fighting that monster--and you were all over the city--and--”

“Numa, it’s okay,” Luke told her, taking her hands in his to calm her. “I’m okay, Ahsoka…” He glanced at the Rebels; they’d lifted the former Jedi onto a stretcher and were carrying her away. “She’s going to be okay, too. And you got me here.” He smiled. “We make a good team.” 

Numa laughed nervously, and then at last she smiled as well. 

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, that’s good.” She motioned with a hand towards her ship. “You coming with me again?”

“Of course,” Luke said. “Obi-Wan, I...assume you’re going back with your transports?”

“No, no,” Obi-Wan said lightly. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.” 

Luke was surprised to find that he  _ didn’t  _ mind. 

“I don’t,” he said. “If...as long as Ahsoka’s going to be all right?”

“She’ll be fine, kid,” said a new voice from behind him. 

Luke turned around to see one of the former clones who had come to his aid--the very same clone, he realized, who had stared up at him in shock as he killed the monster. He was the one who...somehow knew who Luke was. 

“She’ll be fine,” Luke echoed. “All right. And…” Suddenly Luke realized he was standing around all these new people, people who had all done amazing things and had lived through the Clone Wars, and even though he’d just fought the Angel of Death and saved Ahsoka, he felt a little awkward. “And who...are you? I’m sorry I don’t know--”

“Sorry?” The man looked amused. “Ah, don’t be sorry. You wouldn’t know me, but I know you, all right. Soon as I saw you, I knew who you were.” 

Luke’s eyes widened. 

_ This man had known his father.  _

“I’m Commander Rex,” the clone said. “I served with your father during the Clone Wars.”

“I knew it,” Luke whispered excitedly. He was too aware of Obi-Wan pulling on his arm--they needed to go--but they could wait a little longer. “I knew it! You did know my father!” 

Rex chuckled. “You look exactly like him, too. Except, erm…” He looked Luke up and down. “He was a  _ bit  _ taller.” 

“Probably more than a bit,” Luke said, blushing. 

“This is extraordinary to witness,” Obi-Wan cut in, “but we  _ must _ be going.” 

“Of course,” Rex said, straightening up immediately. Luke supposed years of being a soldier had ingrained in him an automatic respect of the Jedi. “I’ll catch up with you later...Luke, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s Luke,” Luke said with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Rex.” 

With a last salute, Rex walked away to join the other two clones; Luke couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw Rex gesture towards him, and then he saw the other two clones break into cheers. 

Luke smiled. These people didn’t know him well, but...they all believed in him. 

Obi-Wan was smiling as well. He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. 

“Come,” he said at last. “We cannot stay another moment.” Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder, and Luke looked with him; to his alarm, the pile of debris was beginning to shift, ever so slowly. “The Angel will not be down for long.” 

  
  


Several minutes after they had left, the debris shifted; then, as the Angel of Death awoke fully, it was thrown back with all the strength of the Dark Side. She was wounded--she had been defeated--but she was not dead. 

She was still fighting.

She took a moment to right her mask; it had fallen half off her face. One resident of the town happened to be looking out of his window, and he turned back quickly at the sight of that horrible gaping mouth. 

He would not have guessed how the Angel of Death truly felt. 

No one would have guessed. No one knew. 

She could not be anything but angry, could she? 

Fortunately, she did not attack any of the residents. Instead, she disappeared through the alleyways...and in minutes, to anyone who had been watching, a small ship took off from the planet Arorua. 

The assassin had failed, and she would need to report. 

  
  


The ride back was silent at first. Obi-Wan had offered to fly, while Numa took some much-needed rest; Luke sat up in the cockpit with him. But neither of them said anything. 

In truth, Luke didn’t know  _ what  _ to say. He’d succeeded, all right, and Obi-Wan said he had been right to go after Ahsoka...but what if he didn’t really think that? Luke wouldn’t blame his master for being disappointed with him. He had disobeyed orders, had made him worry--

“Luke, you are not shielding,” Obi-Wan said idly. 

Luke almost jumped. Right, Obi-Wan must have heard all that. He went red. 

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just that--well--I shouldn’t have done this, I should have waited for you--”

“Luke, I’ve told you,” Obi-Wan said gently. “I was wrong.” He turned to look at him. “It was a very, very courageous thing that you did. You saved Ahsoka’s life. She was your father’s Padawan...but not only that, she is a very dear friend of mine.” He shook his head; he felt awful, awful remorse, Luke realized. “And I was ready to let her die.” 

Luke stared at him. He couldn’t quite understand it; he’d never imagined that Obi-Wan could be wrong about anything, but it made sense. 

And it made him feel good, surprisingly. 

But he could still sense that there was something else on Obi-Wan’s mind, something else his master wanted to say. 

“What is it?” Luke asked him. “What do you want to tell me?”

Obi-Wan blinked--and then, he laughed quietly. 

“It seems,” he said wryly, “that you are not the only one forgetting to shield.” His smile faded. “No, I...Luke, this is something I should have told you, a long time ago. I was too afraid to tell you; I thought you did not need to know. But...my fear of losing you almost led me to fall to the Dark Side.” 

The Dark Side. 

Obi-Wan? 

Luke’s eyes blew wide. 

“Don’t say that,” he said earnestly. “Master, you can’t believe that. Maybe you made a few mistakes, but--”

“Stop.” Obi-Wan held up a hand. “Luke, I know you like to believe that all people are good, and that...that isn’t wrong. But there is a  _ darkness  _ inside of us. All people, not just Force-sensitives--but it is worse for us, because it can be turned to worse things. As beings, we are equal parts evil and good; and if you tell yourself you are only good, if you tell yourself that there is no chance that you could do anything evil, you are already at risk of turning to it.” 

Luke could hardly believe what he was hearing. It made sense, of course it made sense, now that he thought about it...but did that mean  _ he  _ was in danger? 

It was a frightening thought. 

“All right,” he said. “I…” He swallowed. “I’ll be aware of myself, Master.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him, that same severe look in his eyes...and then, his expression was softened with a smile. 

“Oh, Luke,” he said. “You’re too good for the galaxy.” 

Luke frowned. “Okay, but you  _ just said--” _

“No, no. I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Of course we must be aware of ourselves, as you yourself said. I mean...you’re good at the things I need to  _ try  _ at, the things that have been difficult for me. You have been so focused on seeing the good in everyone, but the moment I tell you that anyone can be evil, you decide to become better.” He sighed. “If only I’d seen that.” 

“Oh,” Luke said. “You mean I’m good at being a Jedi.” 

Obi-Wan smiled. “Precisely.” 

“Well…” Luke shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m  _ that  _ good--”

“Of course you have much to learn. But…” Obi-Wan tapped Luke’s forehead, and he laughed. “You already have the mindset of a Jedi. And that is what matters.” 

Luke took a deep breath. For the first time in months, maybe his relationship with Obi-Wan was off to a good place. 

And...and if that were true...

“So,” he said, “you’re...you’re going to let me do things now? For the Rebellion?”

Obi-Wan stared at him again. Luke wished he’d let his shielding slip again. 

“Yes,” he said. “I daresay I will.” 

Luke couldn’t help it. He grinned, so wide he felt it might split his face. He couldn’t believe it--he  _ couldn’t  _ believe it--he was going to get to do good things for the galaxy, as he’d always dreamed. He’d get to save people...to help people, to make a difference...and to maybe, finally, help end the Empire. 

He would get to be the Starling. 

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” he gasped, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Thank you, thank you--”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan said, and Luke realized he wasn’t shielding again. 

“Sorry,” he said, but his master laughed. 

“It’s quite all right. You’ll get there.” Obi-Wan reached a hand across to ruffle Luke’s hair. “You’ll be a true Jedi eventually.” 

Luke beamed. 

He couldn’t help feeling that, despite all his shortcomings, he was really starting to get better, like Obi-Wan said.

He couldn’t help feeling that he had made his parents proud. 

  
  


Somehow, the Angel of Death had failed. 

Vader did not know how it had happened; he would find out soon, as soon as his assassin arrived. But somehow, Ahsoka Tano lived. He knew it in the Force--he had felt it. Either his assassin had failed...or someone else had intervened. 

He did not like either of those possibilities. 

The assassin could not fail. 

Vader could only defeat Palpatine if he had her at his disposal, if he was  _ absolutely sure  _ that she would be able to assist in killing his master. 

There was a shift in the Force; Vader rose from his meditation chamber. It was time.

“Lord Vader.” One of the Inquisitors was waiting for him. “Your assassin has--”

“I know,” Vader snarled, marching past him furiously. He did not bother to hide his anger, his fury, at what happened as he stormed past Vanee, past his aides, past other Inquisitors. 

In moments, he had arrived in his antechamber. The assassin was kneeling, as usual; nothing appeared any different. But Vader could sense her fear, her apprehension...her sorrow. 

Good. 

All of that could be turned into anger. 

Vader did not say anything to her for a long time. She simply remained there, kneeling.

“Assassin,” he said at last. “Do you remember why I chose you as my agent?” 

His assassin finally looked up, slowly, and nodded.

“You were one out of hundreds of candidates,” Vader went on. “Gifted children, special children--but some of them were weak. Some of them would not survive. Some of them did not do whatever was necessary...but you did. You were always willing to do  _ whatever was necessary  _ to complete a task.” 

She still did not respond. She was terrified. 

“Is that  _ correct?”  _ he growled at her. 

“Yes, master,” she whispered. 

Vader remained silent for a moment longer. 

“Then, why,” he demanded, allowing his voice to rise, “is Ahsoka Tano  _ not dead?”  _

The assassin flinched. 

“I failed,” she said, and he could not only sense the misery in her voice--he could hear it. “I did not kill the target.” 

Vader did not bother to ask again. Instead, he did what she had been expecting; he went into her mind, without remorse, searching and demanding answers regardless of each wince, each flash of pain that the assassin felt. 

At least she did not make any noise. At least she was not  _ that  _ weak. 

Searching through his assassin’s memories was an easy task. She was such a blank slate, with nothing there except memories of her time in the Empire; every thought, every feeling, was focused solely toward Vader’s orders, toward the Dark Side, toward killing. That did not mean he held back from making it an uncomfortable experience; he was angry, and he wanted her to know it. 

And then, at last, Vader had the memory he was looking for. 

_ The target is almost dead...this is it.  _

_ What is that noise?  _

Who  _ is that?  _

_ I must find him, I must stop him-- _

_ He is stronger than I thought. This is not expected.  _

_ “WHO ARE YOU?” _

_ “Oh, you wanna know?” A parry with a lightsaber--blue. “I’m the Starling.”  _

Vader withdrew. 

The assassin was left on the floor, gasping for breath and clutching at her head. 

“So.” Vader had been right; someone had interfered. “You were stopped by the...Starling.” 

“Yes,” his assassin replied, keeping the pain out of her voice. Good. 

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know,” she said. 

Just in case, Vader searched her mind again; once more, he took satisfaction in the pain she felt, the agony she experienced. But in the end, he found what he had expected. She was telling the truth. 

But then, what did this mean? The  _ Starling.  _ What a presumptuous name--what was he trying to be, a symbol of hope? There was no hope. It had been extinguished, with the rest of his  _ family.  _

And he had stopped the Angel of Death from killing his former Padawan. He had the  _ Force.  _

Obi-Wan, of course, was still alive. What if Obi-Wan had sent him? Had trained him? Vader would not put it past him. Naturally, if Vader had an apprentice, he would dredge up one of his own. 

A worthy enemy for the Angel of Death. 

But he had seen one other thing in his assassin’s memories. He had struggled, had fought with all his strength...and she had barely tired. 

She was stronger than him. 

She had been caught off guard, nothing more--and it was not surprising. This had caught  _ Vader  _ off guard. 

But no more. 

“You must find him,” he told her. “You must spend every waking hour, every minute, in search of him. You must be stronger than him; because he is weak. He does not use the Dark Side. But when you find him…” He allowed himself to savor the words. “Do not kill him quickly. I want him to suffer for what he has done to us. I want to  _ feel  _ his pain from wherever I may be.” 

“Yes, Master,” she said. She sounded stronger already. 

But he was not finished with her. 

“But before you do that,” he said, “I believe the Grand Inquisitor is waiting for you.” 

She stiffened. She had been afraid of this; he’d seen  _ that  _ in her mind as well. But it would leave no scars...and furthermore, it would make her all the more determined not to fail him again. 

“Is it...necessary?” she asked. 

Vader’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. He had suspected; he had wondered if meeting a young Jedi would put doubt in her mind. He had been correct. 

“Yes,” he said, and then added: “It will not be terrible.” 

He did not know why he had said that. He did not need to pity her; she was his assassin. 

But it had seemed to work, regardless. Slowly, the assassin stood. 

“Yes, Master,” she said, and then she walked stiffly away from him, and through the doors where the Grand Inquisitor stood waiting. 

  
  


_ Luke Skywalker.  _

It was impossible. It had to be impossible; Anakin Skywalker had not had any children. The Third Brother knew this, because he knew something that no one else did. 

Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, his master. 

He was the only one of the Inquisitors to know--well. The Grand Inquisitor might know...but Vader did not like others to have information on him. He especially did not want anyone to know that he had once been a Jedi. 

But the Third Brother had worked closely with Governor Tarkin once, and for that, Vader had told him the truth  _ under pain of death.  _ He had not wanted to tell him, but Tarkin had not had a chance to work with Inquisitors, and as he knew the truth, Vader strongly suspected that Tarkin would take the chance to tell one of them. Just to have an ally of his own. 

So the Third Brother knew the truth. 

And now he knew a second truth. 

There was another Skywalker. 

He had to tell him. Vader must know, at once--because as obsessed as he was with training his assassin, a son of his own would have even greater power. Vader would want to know. 

At last, the Third Brother had arrived on Mustafar, at Vader’s castle; he hardly waited for the gates to open before he had hurried inside, toward the antechamber. 

He opened the doors with the Force. Someone was standing there, a figure in black--Vader. 

No. Not Vader, he realized. It wasn’t Vader. They were far too short for that;  _ she  _ was far too short. 

The figure turned around to reveal the Angel of Death, unmasked. 

The Third Brother’s first realization was that she looked  _ terrible.  _ Her face--which he had never seen before--was flushed with sweat, and was white as snow. There was a jagged scar across her cheek, weeping blood, and she limped as she came forward. 

But the look in her eyes was from the darkest corner of hell. 

“Get out,” she demanded, her voice stilted and harsh. “Leave!” 

“But--Lord Vader,” the Third Brother told her. He was  _ her  _ master as well; surely that would sway her. “I have urgent news for Lord Vader.” 

But the look in the assassin’s face hardened. 

“That does not matter,” she said, continuing to limp towards him; as she came, the limp became less pronounced. “You cannot see him.” 

“You don’t understand,” he told her. “This...Lord Vader  _ must know.  _ I have found someone, and Vader must know--this person--”

The Dark Side  _ slammed  _ into him. As the assassin threw out a hand, the Third Brother was hurled across the room, against his will, towards the opposite wall--

Pain. Pain, hot and sharp, in his abdomen. 

He looked down. 

She had impaled him on a spike in the wall. 

“No--” He coughed blood as he struggled to speak, as he struggled to focus on the dark figure approaching him. “You...you must know...Lord Vader has a…”

“I don’t care,” the assassin said coldly, pushing him further onto the spike; he whimpered. 

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. 

“...he has a son,” the Third Brother finished weakly. 

Moments later, darkness fell. 


	11. The Hero

Luke woke to the sensation of a hand on his shoulder; when he sat up, there was an uncomfortable crick in his neck, and Obi-Wan was looking at him. He’d fallen asleep in the cockpit, and he must have slumped forward on the dashboard. 

“Where are we?” he mumbled. 

“Yavin,” Obi-Wan told him. “We’re just about to come out of hyperspace.” 

Luke frowned, wishing he could go back to sleep; it had been a long day. “Well then, why didn’t you wake me up  _ after  _ we emerge from hyperspace?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I think we both know why. You aren’t easy to wake up.” 

Luke didn’t have an answer for that. Obi-Wan was right. 

He looked around. Numa had woken up from her own nap, and was standing just outside the cockpit. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said cheerfully. Luke scowled. “We’re almost home.”

“I can tell,” Luke said; his voice came out in a croak. “What…” 

The fog over his mind lifted, slowly, and then he remembered everything: the list, leaping through the air, Ahsoka Tano, fighting the Angel of Death. 

His mouth fell open.

“That really happened,” he said. “All of this, I…” He rubbed the back of his neck; it was slightly less sore now that he was sitting up. “I really did that, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Numa said, ruffling his hair. “And thanks to you, Ahsoka’s all right.”

“She…” Luke’s eyes widened in hope; the last he’d seen of her, she’d been barely alive, being carried off on a stretcher. “She’s okay?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know anything about this. I’ve just been flying the ship.” 

“You’re not as good as I am,” Numa remarked wryly. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “I know. I thought I’d give you a rest. But, now, Ahsoka--”

“Right. I received a transmission, oh...twenty minutes ago, from the transport vessel.” Numa smiled. “She’ll need actual medical attention, from our facilities, but she’s going to make it.” 

Luke’s face burst out in a broad smile. It was okay, Ahsoka was okay. 

“She’s…” He breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s okay. I did the right thing.” 

“Of course you did,” Obi-Wan said. “But I already told you that.” He turned his attention back to the path in front of them; and seconds later, they emerged from hyperspace. 

Luke looked out at Yavin’s moon. The sight of it had never looked so good. 

“But,” Obi-Wan said with a glance at Luke, “I have some questions.” 

Luke swallowed. He wondered if he knew what Obi-Wan was going to ask him; after all, he’d just fought Darth Vader’s assassin. He’d told her he was the Starling…

“Your identity,” Obi-Wan said, and Luke blinked. Had he really gotten that good at guessing what his master was thinking? “And now, before you say anything, I do not intend to keep you from going on missions. You have convinced me of your skill, you’ve convinced me I was wrong, and I will not keep you from it.”

“But,” Luke said. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “But we still need to be careful that your identity is not revealed. Does the assassin know who you are?”

“She…” Luke took a deep breath. “She knows I’m the Starling.” 

To his surprise, Obi-Wan smiled. 

“Good,” his master said. “That’s good.” 

“Good?” Numa frowned, looking between them. “I mean--uh--pardon me, Obi-Wan, but how is that  _ good?” _

“Because…” Obi-Wan waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll explain later, at the Council.” 

“We’re…” Luke bowed his head. “Of course we’re going to the Council.” 

Obi-Wan looked confused. “Yes. You’ve created quite a stir, Luke--no one, on either side of the war, expected this to happen. We must speak with them. Why do you not--”

“Because they think I’m just a kid,” Luke blurted out before he could stop himself. “They think I can’t do anything and it’s stupid to give me important missions.” 

“I--” Obi-Wan broke off. “Luke, I will not deny that I would have sided with them before today. But you have saved Ahsoka Tano’s life. I doubt that after today they will deny that you can do great things for us. And…” A determined look entered his eyes. “And if any one of them suggests that you are not skilled enough, I daresay they’ll have me to deal with.” 

Luke smiled. 

After all the frustration of the last few months, it seemed that things were finally getting better. 

His master  _ trusted  _ him. 

“Now,” Obi-Wan said softly, “let’s go home.” 

  
  


Of all the things Luke had expected when they reached the surface of Yavin 4, a crowd was not one of them. 

As they landed, he had already begun to notice the hundreds and thousands of Rebels crowding around the platform. He figured that they were here because of Ahsoka; they must have heard she’d been injured. 

Then, when he stepped out of the ship, the people broke into cheers. 

Luke  _ froze.  _ They weren’t cheering for Ahsoka. They were cheering for him. Obi-Wan hadn’t left the ship yet. All these people were here for him...but why? Why him? The shouts were almost deafening, the sun was in his eyes--

The  _ Rebels  _ were  _ applauding  _ for  _ him.  _

What…? 

Then there was a gentle hand on his back, and Luke came out of his stupor to realize that Obi-Wan was there--thank the Force--and was guiding him forward. Luke glanced desperately at his master, his lips formed a question; but Obi-Wan shook his head. 

Then there was a feather-light touch on his mind. 

_ This is why I asked you what the Angel knew,  _ Obi-Wan sent to him.  _ Clearly, news travels quickly.  _

_ But...but how?  _ Luke wanted to know. They continued to walk through the crowd, who were...who were tossing flowers. This was unreal. If Obi-Wan hadn’t been holding him, he might not have been able to stand.  _ I only told her I was the Starling, how would the galaxy know so fast?  _

Obi-Wan was silent for several seconds. He was smiling graciously, so Luke decided to copy that; but all he really wanted was to know what was going on. 

_ Luke,  _ Obi-Wan thought to him at last,  _ remember who the Angel of Death works for. _

Luke was so shocked by the day, and by this current turn of events, that it took a moment for him to work it out. The Angel of Death. The assassin. The assassin of--

Darth Vader. 

He shuddered. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. 

Vader had told someone, or simply released the information into the galaxy for everyone to know...and now  _ everyone _ knew he was the Starling. 

As Luke was still trying to process this insane and, quite frankly, terrifying news, a little Twi’lek girl stepped in front of him.

He stopped dead. What...what did she….?

“Hi,” Luke said; his voice came out in a croak, and he winced. But the child probably didn’t care. 

Unexpectedly, she held out a ryoo flower. 

“This is for you,” she said, her lip trembling slightly; she was nervous. 

He took it from her slowly. He...he hadn’t seen a ryoo flower since he’d been to his mother’s home planet when he was thirteen, and had laid a bouquet of the flowers on her grave. It had been the first time he’d actually enjoyed himself, and had felt happy, since being rescued by Obi-Wan. 

Luke breathed in the scent, and a warm feeling spread through him. 

He smiled down at the girl. 

“Thank you,” he said. “Did you know these are my favorite type of flower?”

Shyly, the girl shook her head. But now she was smiling, too, looking at him with...with admiration. 

A moment later, Obi-Wan was tugging him along, but the thought hadn’t left Luke’s mind. 

That kid thought he was a  _ hero.  _

And he was, he realized. For saving Ahsoka Tano on a whim, children admired him. 

Maybe Vader was after him. Maybe the Angel of Death was hellbent on killing him. But maybe it was worth it, he thought. 

Maybe it was worth it for returning hope to the galaxy. 

  
  


The list had been amended. 

Several hours earlier, in the central computer in the facility on Cato Neimoidia, the next three of the Damned, the next three to be killed, had been, in this order: 

Ahsoka Tano, Mon Mothma, Bail Organa. 

Now, as per Lord Vader’s orders, it had been amended. Now, it read: 

The Starling, Ahsoka Tano, Mon Mothma. 

The apprentice must die. Vader knew this more than anyone, because he knew what she had been; he knew what she had done, to him. 

How she had left him, had refused to help him. She had been  _ selfish.  _

And she must die. 

But she had been stopped from dying by a naive, fresh-faced  _ child.  _ Because of this  _ boy,  _ the apprentice lived. 

He was a danger. To everything Vader stood to gain. There was a plan, to kill the Emperor, to take control of the galaxy, to  _ finally  _ bring peace in honor of...of those who had once stood for it. One, in particular. The Angel of Death was central to that. 

But if she had an enemy who stood a chance of being her equal, then she would not be able to assist Vader in overthrowing the Emperor. 

This boy, this child, this Starling, absolutely jeopardized everything.

And he, before anyone else, must die. 

  
  


“Hey!” 

The voice rang out as soon as they were in the temple. Luke, his eyes already on the door to the Council, spun at the sound of it. 

Biggs crashed into him, hugging him so tightly that Luke was lifted off the ground in a bear hug. 

“Wh--” Luke started to talk, but then Biggs set him down and pulled back to look at him. 

“Luke!” his friend exclaimed, excitement in his eyes. “I don’t--I don’t believe it! You go halfway across the galaxy, fight the Angel--”

“Uh...uh, yeah,” Luke said, still a bit shocked by the...everything. “You know me. Just another Tuesday.” 

Biggs laughed and gave Luke a light punch in the shoulder. 

“You...saving famous Jedi,” Biggs repeated. “I don’t believe it.” 

“You said that already,” Luke remarked. 

“Ah, stop it, kid. But really!” Biggs began to pace, overcome with happiness. “You, fighting the Angel of Death? The Starling? And I know you! Luke Skywalker is--”

“Darklighter,” Obi-Wan said, appearing suddenly at Luke’s side. 

Biggs’ mouth fell open, and that was when Luke realized that Biggs had never seen the two of them together. 

“You’re--you’re General Kenobi,” he stammered. “You--” 

“Sorry I never told you,” Luke said wryly. “But I’m training to be a Jedi.” 

Biggs looked like he was about to pass out. 

“I understand that this may be a shock for you,” Obi-Wan said. “But you must know something. If you know Luke, and you know that he is  _ the Starling,  _ you must never say a word to anyone about it.” 

Luke still didn’t understand why _ exactly  _ Obi-Wan was so nervous about that. But it wasn’t as though he  _ wanted _ the Empire to know who he was. So he supposed that, somehow, for whatever reason, Obi-Wan was right. 

“I...I won’t,” Biggs said, though his face was still white. “Obviously. I won’t tell anyone.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him for another second, and then he nodded curtly. 

“Good,” he said. “Thank you.” He seized Luke’s arm. “Come, now. The Council is waiting.” 

Luke shot an apologetic look over his shoulder and hoped Biggs understood. 

Then, he spun back to face Obi-Wan. “You didn’t have to get that defensive! He’s my friend, he’d never--”

“I understand that he’s your friend, and I’m sorry that I had to do that,” Obi-Wan said as they walked. “But you must understand something.”

He stopped, dead, in the hallway. Luke stopped with him. 

Obi-Wan was finally about to tell him. 

There was something,  _ something,  _ that Obi-Wan had  _ never  _ told him, he realized in that moment. And it was about to come out. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“You...you are…” Obi-Wan seemed to be struggling with his words. Then, he took a deep breath. “Luke. You know that Darth Vader...killed your father.” 

Luke stilled. The thought still filled him with age-old fury, especially after finding out that Vader had literally  _ used the name of his rival’s wife as a password to taunt him beyond the grave,  _ but he made himself stay calm. 

“Yes,” he ground out. 

“Then you understand why he cannot know,” Obi-Wan said, his tone severe. “The Angel of Death has never failed before. He will already be angry with you following today’s events.”

“Good,” Luke said, more than happy to have pissed off his father’s murderer. 

Then Obi-Wan, predictably, gripped his arms. 

“No,” he said, “ _ not good.  _ You must understand this. Vader is already angry. I know him well, and I know that he is beyond furious at what you have done. He will want you  _ dead.  _ Dead...and tortured, and terrified, and broken down beforehand. Do you understand that?”

Luke’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought about that. Or, he supposed he had; but hearing it, from Obi-Wan’s lips, was another matter entirely. 

Darth Vader, the Emperor’s Enforcer, the man who’d killed his father and hundreds of other Jedi, specifically wanted revenge on him. 

For a moment, for one single moment, Luke blanched. He trembled. 

He imagined the Angel descending on him, her blade over his chest...he imagined Darth Vader himself standing over him, making him feel all the pain the Dark Lord felt he deserved. If Vader decided he needed to die or be tortured...no one would be able to stop him. Or the Angel, for that matter. 

_ If Darth Vader wants me dead and broken, is it worth it?  _

Then he remembered the people cheering. He remembered Ahsoka thanking him. He remembered Biggs seizing him in a hug. He remembered the girl, handing him the ryoo flower. 

It was worth it. 

For the sake of himself, for the sake of everyone he loved, he would walk into the fire, consequences be damned. 

Luke looked up at Obi-Wan and set his jaw. 

“Yes,” he said. “I understand.” 

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. 

“All right,” he said. “So you understand that. Now imagine that, beyond everything, Vader learns your name. He learns that the Starling is Luke Skywalker.” 

Now.  _ That  _ was terrifying.

Luke knew what it meant. Luke knew very, very well what it meant. 

“He’ll do even worse,” he whispered. “He’ll torture me more…”

“He may do that,” Obi-Wan said. “But if you defeat the Angel, if his assassin is useless to him, he may also decide that revenge on his old enemy would best be performed...by turning his son to the Dark Side.” 

Luke’s insides froze. 

_ Turn him to the Dark Side.  _

The thought was so horrid, so appalling, so terrible, so  _ unthinkable-- _

But then Luke remembered what Obi-Wan had made him promise. That he would never assume that he couldn’t fall to the Dark Side. 

This was why Obi-Wan was so adamant that he understand. Because if he fell to the Dark Side...if he became the Angel’s replacement...his soul would be destroyed, and everyone in the galaxy would be in danger from him. 

This, he realized, was worse than anything he’d ever imagined. 

_ But it was still worth it.  _

Luke was trembling, he realized, trembling from fear. But with an effort, he forced himself under control and stood tall. 

He’d put himself out there. He’d become, unwittingly, a hero. And for the sake of the galaxy, he could not let himself fall. 

He could not let his true name be discovered. 

“I understand, master,” he said softly. “I will not let anyone learn my name. I swear it to you.” 

And at long last, Obi-Wan smiled. All the tension melted from his face. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I needed that.”

Luke blinked. He was noticing more and more these days that Obi-Wan was not perfect, that he had insecurities, that he was human. 

On an impulse, he took his master’s hand in his. 

“I won’t let the Empire win,” he said. “In every way that counts. I’ll fight.” 

“I know, Luke,” Obi-Wan said, and for once there was not sadness behind his eyes. “I trust you.” He squeezed Luke’s hand. “Now. Let’s go meet the Council.” 

Obi-Wan let go of Luke and pushed open the doors. 

The people standing there in the Council’s chamber had all, clearly, been talking; now they fell silent. That was suspicious, and Luke had to wonder if they had all been talking about  _ him.  _

Everyone was here. Mon Mothma. Bail Organa. General Rieekan. Cassian Andor.  _ Everyone.  _

For a moment there was silence as they stared at him, and Luke was afraid. What if they thought he’d made a terrible mistake, that he was still a kid, that he was out of his depth. 

He looked down at the floor. 

And then suddenly he looked up as, with an exultant shout, the whole of the Council descended upon him, Luke Skywalker, with praises and thanks and happy cheers. 

Surrounded by all these important people, all asking him questions and telling him how wrong they’d been and how the Starling would save them all, tears sprang to Luke’s eyes. 

_ I did it,  _ he thought.  _ I’ve made my parents proud. I just know it.  _

Luke was in danger. He knew it, and it terrified him. Until the Empire was defeated, he was a hunted man. 

Hunted by the Angel of Death. Hunted by  _ Darth Vader.  _

But if he brought hope to the galaxy, if he became the reason someone slept better at night, if he protected the people who couldn’t protect themselves, if he at least  _ helped _ to bring peace...then really, who gave a damn? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of a short chapter, and I know not a lot happens, but....things really start heating up in a couple chapters, and I need to give Luke at least a LITTLE break.


	12. Interlude I: The Angel Of Death

The Force was dark. 

The Force was _always_ dark. 

From the beginning, it had been dark. She knew nothing else. There _was_ nothing else. The Force was darkness, the Master had told her; not _her_ master. _Her_ master, Darth Vader, was powerful and terrible and overpowering, but even he was not invincible. Even he had a master, and this master ruled everyone and everything--she had only seen him once. He was the earliest face she remembered. He had explained the Force to her, and to the other trainees, in painstaking detail; she had been and still was a blank slate, so it was not hard for her to remember them. 

The Force is strength. 

The Force is power. 

The Force is yours to command. 

If you win, Darth Vader will be your master. You will gain power over the galaxy. If you want that, you will remember these things. 

She had taken these words to heart. She had known nothing else except a desire to win; and now, if she tried to remember back to the beginning--an action to which there was no point, as her life had no point but to kill for the Empire--she could remember only a feeling of desperation, throwing herself into her training to defeat everyone else who fought her. It was a matter of survival, it was something she _had_ to do; so eventually she had won. She was Darth Vader’s assassin. Nothing else mattered. She knew that Vader had plans for her; she knew there was some great goal she must accomplish. She did not know what it was. She did not need to know. It was not her place to know. 

She only knew that she must do it. 

But as time passed, just because she was the assassin did not mean she stopped believing the words that the Master had said. She knew them, thought of them, every moment; they had made her unstoppable. 

The Force was strength, power, and hers to command. 

But best of all, the Force was dark. It was, simultaneously, a black, blank void, just like her mind, and an inferno filled with rage. It had never been hard to access. To command. 

And usually, when she sat like this, when she meditated, it was a relief. To fall into that void, to let the pain in her muscles and bones and every part of her fuel her. 

There was nothing there. 

_Usually._

Now, at first glance, it appeared to be the same. When she immersed herself in the Force, there was nothing there. But as she delved deeper, she realized a new, horrifying fact. 

There was something there. 

She did not know what it was. It was a mystery; but it was as if she was in a cave, a cave that had been previously dark, for all eternity...and without warning there was a light there. The light did not belong there. It had invaded a space that was not its own. But she could not get rid of it. 

She could not be at peace in the Dark--because all the while, something distracted her. It was that _thing_ that was there, the tiny spark in the cave. 

She did not want to find it. She did not want to know what it was. But it seemed to call to her all the same. 

She couldn’t _guess_ what it was. She tried to move on, to ignore the spark. 

_Light is dangerous,_ her master told her frequently. _It is weakness, yet it has a danger of its own._

_It can cause you to believe that you must serve others, instead of dominating them. It causes you to lose, to become weak. The Empire cannot thrive with the Light Side. Do not use it!_

The Force is strength. 

The Force is power. 

The Force is--

_Who are you?_

The question--her own question, she realized--attacked her suddenly. It had something to do with the spark, she knew it. 

And ever since her meeting with her master, it had been plaguing her. 

_Who are you?_

_Who is he?_

_Oh, you wanna know? I’m the Starling._

Rage burned. 

Usually, rage was just something that existed in the Dark of the Force. It was not personal; it was just something she needed to use to do her job. To kill her targets. 

Now she felt it in full. Now she felt a small part of the great fury she could sense from her master whenever he was angry, whenever the Force was particularly strong with him. Now, the rage was hers. 

The Starling was the reason she had failed. She _could not fail._

Because of her failure, she had had her mind torn apart by her master. This had not happened in a long time, since her training, since she won the contest and was first accepted by him as his assassin. Because of her failure, she had been sent back to the Inquisitors. 

All that was right, of course. It was the consequence of failure. 

But the entire reason she had failed at all was the cursed _Starling._

She had never failed to kill a target before. But he had stopped her from killing the apprentice. Of course, he had been weaker than her; she had felt it. He was not as well trained as she was. But stranger than that, he used the Force...differently. It was not the correct way; she knew that. He used it like...like the other Jedi. The ones who deserved to be killed. 

The weak ones. 

The Starling was weak. 

And yet, she had not been able to kill him. Why? Why could she not? 

_Who is the Starling?_

He had ruined her mission. He had ruined her reputation. He had ruined _everything--_

This was too much. The Force was, for once, too much. The darkness pressed in, the light grew larger--

She opened her eyes. 

That did not help. 

Her meditation chamber was too small, too enclosed. There were no windows. There was a bacta tank for healing, a bunk for rest, where she sat now, and the door. It had never been small before; it was a necessity. She did not need anything else. To even wish for anything else would be to disobey the wishes of her master, and of the Empire. 

But now it seemed too small. 

It was not enough.

The Starling was at fault, the Starling was at fault--

She dragged herself to her feet; pain shot through her leg. She knew why. For her failure, Inquisitors had punished her with Force pikes, delivered only to non-vital places on her body, and as a result, her legs burned. Among other places. That was right, of course, that was right, she should not protest it. But something in her _wanted_ to protest it, to say it was wrong and she should not be hurting for her failure, and she knew who was at fault for that too--

_The Starling._

The Starling had caused that. The Starling had caused her to fall out of favor with Darth Vader, the master who had brought her to greatness. The Starling had caused her necessary pain. 

The Starling had caused her to fail. 

The anger built, and built, the rage that she had made her own; she could not hold it back. It exploded outward with a scream, shredding the bed and the bacta tank and everything else to pieces. 

She stormed out through the space where the durasteel door had been, ignoring the Sixth Sister as she looked up, as she called something after her. The assassin did not understand the words; and even if she had, she would not have paid attention. 

She walked away. She kept walking, through the castle that did not belong to her; tore a hole in the wall with the Force and climbed, climbed up the hatch, ignored the heat that burned around her. Sweat dripped down her back, but the heat was nothing; it was nothing compared to the heat that raged inside her. 

_The Starling. The Starling._

_Who is the Starling?_

She kept climbing until she’d escaped out of the castle. She had done this many times before; Vader allowed it. She did not know why. She only knew she needed it. 

Ignoring what was now a hole in the roof of the castle, she stood up and walked along the smooth obsidian until she’d reached her favorite vantage point. Then she stopped, and simply stood, staring out at the fiery world of Mustafar, out at the raging rivers of lava. 

She was not permitted to speak unless spoken to. But if she did not, she thought her rage might explode again. 

She just hoped Vader would not find out and punish her again. Her legs still hurt. 

“Who,” she demanded, and her voice as always sounded very strange in her ears, like the scraping of rock on gravel. “Who is he.” 

The Force gave no answer. It would not _tell her._

Furious, she searched once again, forcing herself to actively remember what had happened. The Starling was...young. She had never seen him before. He was a male. He was not trained as well as she was. 

And yet, despite that, despite the innate weakness that came with using the Force as Light, with using it in a way that was not natural...the Force was very, very strong with him. 

_Who was he?_

The Force always had an answer. The answer was simple, clearly cut; it required not thinking. In her position, she must not think. She must only trust the Force. 

But this time, the Force yielded no answers. 

The unexplainable rage took hold of her, once again. She threw her arms to the sky. 

“TELL ME!” she screamed. A jet of lava flew upward, nearly reaching the castle, but she did not flinch. She’d faced far worse. “WHO IS THE STARLING?”

At long last, there seemed to be an answer from that darkness she knew so well. 

_Your enemy,_ it seemed to whisper. _He is your enemy._

She knew that. She already knew that. But, her master had said something about the Starling’s “true identity.” She had not known what that meant. She was used to not knowing what things meant. But now she understood, slightly; he had meant the Starling was someone else besides the Starling. That did not make sense to her. She was the assassin, and sometimes also the Angel of Death, as people had taken to calling her. Her master was Darth Vader. Darth Vader’s master was the Emperor. They were no one else. Why should the Starling be anyone else? Vader had seemed to think he might be. 

Now, for the first time in her life, she saw that he was wrong. 

The Starling was no one but her enemy. The Starling was the Starling, and _he must be destroyed._

Others may not call him the Starling. Maybe that was what Vader had meant, that she must find him by another name. He had also mentioned Obi-Wan Kenobi, the fifth target, and the enemy that must be destroyed last. 

She could find him by Kenobi. 

The deep rage at last began to abate; but as it did so, it was replaced by resolve. The Starling had made her fail. The Starling had ruined her plans. 

And for that, he must be tormented. He would be tormented far worse than anyone had ever been tormented. She herself had had to suffer for her failures--that was right. She could not even allow herself to hate it, because now she could see that it had given her this new resolve. It had made her angrier. 

She had been tormented before. She had been made to be in pain. She was in pain now--her legs burned, her arms burned even more fiercely as she dropped them to her sides; all of her was pain. 

But that was nothing compared to what she would unleash on the Starling. 

He would suffer, far more than anyone had ever suffered. Far more than she had ever suffered, than her master had suffered. She did not even fully know the meaning of what she planned. She knew what Vader had told her, and she knew the rage that must be satisfied; so she would torture her enemy. She would break the Starling, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of him. 

And then, at the last, he would die.

She turned, determination her entire being and sense of self, and left the rooftop. Left her ruminations behind. She knew who the Starling was: he was nothing but her enemy. Someone who deserved to suffer. 

_Who is he?_

_He is your enemy. Nothing more._

The answer was clear and obvious. There was no point in thinking about it any longer. 

That was, perhaps, a mistake. But not one she could have foreseen. 

Because, if she _had_ stayed a moment longer, she might have heard an entirely different answer to her question...an answer whispered by that little spark, by the light she could not drive away. 

_He is your brother._

But it was an answer that, ultimately, went unheard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand the end of part one! This is turning into such a huge story, but I'm so, so excited for where it's going to go.  
> Thanks for reading, guys!


	13. Cassian

_The assassin is coming at her, like a whirlwind, unstoppable; she can’t fight her. She’s never faced a target like this before, never…_

_Or has she?_

_The strokes...it’s like she’s felt them before, but in a slightly different way. This assassin is smaller than her, so that’s not right, but it’s--it’s as if--_

_“Come on, Snips. I know you can do better than that!”_

_It’s as if she’s training with Anakin again, but it’s all wrong._

Ahsoka Tano opened her eyes. 

Where, she thought, where was the Angel of Death--

“Relax, Ahsoka,” said a very familiar voice. “You’re safe. It’s all right.”

Slowly, Ahsoka turned her head, and was met with a face she thought she would never see again, a face she hadn’t seen in years. 

“Obi-Wan,” she breathed. “Am I…” She raised her arms, expecting to feel an awful pain in her side; but there was nothing. She...felt fine. “What happened? The last thing I remember was the Angel about to kill me, and then…” 

No. No, she realized, that _wasn’t_ the last thing I remembered. There was another face there; someone who had helped her. 

Someone who she knew, from a long time ago. 

And then she realized that she must have blacked out before seeing the end; that truly, the last thing she remembered was Luke being attacked by the Angel of Death…

“Where’s Luke?” she demanded, sitting up. “What happened to him?”

“He’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, pushing her gently back into the pillows. “Don’t worry for him; Rex came to help him, and I arrived just in time. But even without us, I have no doubt that Luke would have survived anyway. He’s very strong; and I made the mistake of underestimating him for too long.”

“Will I…” Ahsoka was seized by a need to talk to him, to feel like she was looking at Anakin and talking to Padme. “Will I be able to see him?”

“You will,” Obi-Wan said, “but for now you need to worry about yourself. You are mostly healed; but you have still been gravely injured, and you must make sure you are rested enough. But after that...yes, I promise you’ll see him.” Obi-Wan smiled. “He’s very eager to speak with you as well.” 

Ahsoka smiled back; and suddenly she was struck by the fact that despite the age in his face, the way they’d _both_ changed, in this particular moment almost no time could have passed. She felt as if she could have been in the medbay after a mission gone wrong, and Obi-Wan had come in to tell her she’d done all right after all, that she was truly progressing as a Padawan, that for now nothing was needed of her, so instead she must rest and heal. 

Of course, Anakin would have been there as well, instead of dead. 

Or…

There was something at the edge of her mind, something she remembered; something from a dream. 

She couldn’t put her finger on what it was. 

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan leaned forward. “What is it?”

“It’s…” She was about to say it was nothing, but she knew what he would say to that: ‘nothing is irrelevant, Ahsoka, the future is always shifting,’ et cetera, et cetera

So she took a deep breath. 

“It’s very strange,” she said softly, “and I’m probably going insane. But somewhere between my encounter with the Angel of Death, and waking up now, I’ve started to...I’ve started to feel that Anakin isn’t...that he _isn’t really dead.”_

There was an alarming silence from Obi-Wan. 

Of all things, Ahsoka hadn’t expected _that._ Did that...did that mean…? 

“Oh, he is,” Obi-Wan said at last. He wasn’t looking at her. “Just not in the way that you think.” 

Ahsoka couldn’t have explained the horror that those words filled her with; she didn’t know what they meant, but it had to be something terrible. Something far worse than she could ever have imagined. 

“Obi-Wan,” she said, “stop talking in riddles. _What have you not told me?”_

But Obi-Wan shook his head. 

“Not yet,” he said, “not until you’ve fully rested, and have spoken to Luke. I promise that I will tell you. But for now, you must rest.” 

Obi-Wan gave her a quick hug, as much as their respective positions allowed, and left the medbay. Ahsoka barely felt him go. 

_Oh, he is [dead]. Just not in the way that you think._

Ahsoka closed her eyes. She relaxed back into the soft pillows that had been laid there for her comfort. 

But she did not sleep. 

  
  


Following the meeting, Luke had the best night of sleep that he could remember having in months; he slept straight through until noon, and when he opened his eyes, for a moment he just lay where he was, enjoying the sunlight that fell over his face. 

And then he remembered the previous day. 

_They know you are the Starling; you cannot remain idle. We must take control of the situation._

Luke sighed. No more rest for him. 

Slowly, he swung his legs out of bed; and immediately he noticed that there was one message for him. Curious, he pressed the button--and a hologram of Obi-Wan appeared. 

“Luke,” said his master, “I doubt that you will see much of me; but it is my duty to inform you that Cassian Andor wishes to speak with you. Find him as soon as you are awake.” 

Luke sighed again. He’d been dreading that he’d have to talk to someone from the Council; but Cassian Andor? The man wasn’t too much older than him, but he seemed so...so _uptight,_ and he’d been reluctant to trust Luke at first. Talking to him, one on one, would be...anxiety-inducing. 

But he had no choice. So, with a third sigh, he got out of bed, got dressed, and walked half-awake out the door. 

Life as the Starling was _different,_ to say the least. He’d hardly walked out of the door when the family living next door, who’d never spoken to him a day in their lives, waved and called out to him. 

“Good morning!” said one of the kids. 

“Uh…” Luke scratched his head. “Good...good morning?”

“I hope you slept well,” said their mother. “After such a day yesterday!” 

That one was even more confusing. A random Twi’lek woman was making sure he’d...slept well? 

“Um--um, yeah?” Luke realized he might be sounding slightly rude, and tried to amend it. “I--I hope you did, too?”

He winced. That was worse. 

The woman just laughed, though. 

“You’re so sweet!” she said, and Luke turned bright red. “But I’m probably wasting your time, aren’t I?”

“No,” Luke said, even though she _was,_ but why would he have said that? “But I..I’ll see you...around?”

He winced again. Why was he so bad at this? 

“I’m sure we will!” said the woman, and Luke took that as his cue to leave-- _finally._ With a last awkward wave to top off the whole awkward situation, he turned and hurried off to the rest of the base. 

He was, allegedly, supposed to meet Cassian at the secondary platform, but to do that, he had to walk _all the way_ across the base. That was bad because of _how many people_ wanted to talk to him. And, ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been a problem; Luke loved talking to people. But they only wanted to talk to him because he was the _Starling._

The first encounter wasn’t terrible; it was an elderly man, sitting with some children, who saluted him. 

“Young man, I can’t tell you how happy I am,” said the older gentleman; his accent was Core, and Luke wondered if he had lived on Coruscant during the days of the Republic. “I haven’t felt hope like this ever since the Clone Wars.” 

“Uh…” Luke smiled; this man wasn’t making him feel so awkward, he was genuinely happy. “Thank you?”

The man smiled at him, and Luke continued on his way, and hoped that no one _else_ would suddenly realize that their hero was walking the streets. To think that all this could happen just by walking across the base-! 

Someone giggled, and Luke looked across the street; it was a _girl,_ he realized in horror. 

_Cassian,_ he thought, walking faster. _Just get to the temple…_

But Luke had hardly made it several more paces when, with a flurry of laughter, the girl and her friends were standing in front of him. 

“Hello,” said one of the girls, waving a hand. 

He stopped dead; he could feel himself turn red. 

“Uh..h...hi,” Luke said nervously, taking a step back. The girls followed him. 

“You’re the Starling,” said the Togruta. “You _really_ saved the Jedi?”

Luke didn’t really know what to say. They were all, clearly... _enamored_ with him, but he’d never experienced this before. He didn’t know whether they liked him or not; but he had somewhere to be, and this was all a bit overwhelming. 

“Are _you_ a Jedi?” asked one of the human girls. 

“Um, uh…” Luke glanced between them. “I...don’t really know yet? Um, I…” They all took a step closer to him--there were _four of them--_ and he edged away. “But I, uh, I have to get going, I’m really sorry, I’ve just, uh, got a lot of responsibilities as the Starling and I’ll see you around later?”

Luke had barely finished speaking before he hurried off to the temple, walking as fast as he could go without looking completely suspicious. He looked over his shoulder; the girls hadn’t followed him, but they looked rather disappointed. He felt a tiny bit guilty over that...but what was he supposed to do? Their questions had been making him anxious, and they were all so beautiful, and _confident,_ and he really had never had the experience of having anyone... _like_ him, like that, before. 

And there was also the point of them liking him only because he was the Starling, not at _all_ because of who he actually was. 

Luke could feel eyes on him as he walked--there were others who wanted to approach him, like the girls had; he could tell. They just didn’t have the courage to do it, or something. But that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. 

Another minute, and he was at long last standing in front of the temple; and there, waiting for him, was Cassian Andor. 

“What took you so long?” the Rebel spy demanded. He frowned. “And why are you out of breath?”

Luke shot a glance over his shoulder. The rest of the people on the base hadn’t exactly _followed_ him; it was more that they’d pressed in a little closer to him as he walked, as if trying to get a better look at him, or out of curiosity to see what he was up to. They were all staring at him--but as he turned around, they all immediately looked the other way. 

“Never mind,” he said irritably, turning back to Cassian. “Why...why am I here?”

“You’ll find out,” Cassian said, somewhat ominously. “Follow me.” 

  
  


At first, Luke wondered if they were going to the Council’s room, where they held meetings; that was the way Cassian seemed to be leading him. But then, out of nowhere, they took a sharp turn--and then another, and then another, and then they stopped. In the middle of the hallway. 

“Okay, what’s this about?” Luke wanted to know. “Is this some kind of--”

He stopped. For some reason, Cassian had knelt on the floor and started to...pull at it? Luke felt very confused, and slightly alarmed. He hadn’t been around much in the temple, but he did know that one did not mess around with ancient buildings from a bygone era.

But then the floor _came up,_ and Luke gasped. It was a _trapdoor._

He peered forward. He could almost see into it...it looked like there were a _lot_ of stairs, spiraling down and down and--

“Well?” Cassian asked. “Are you going down or not?”

“Oh.” Luke blushed. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

Tentatively, he reached down and set his foot on the first stair; this building was so old, after all. But the stair held, so Luke walked the rest of the way down, stair after stair after stair, until he’d reached the bottom...and was in complete darkness. 

What _was_ this place?

Luke looked around, and around, hoping to discern where he was; but all he could tell was that it was very old, and wet, and _cold._ He wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to warm himself. 

Suddenly there was a noise behind him--a scraping of metal on the floor. Luke spun around; but then the noise stopped. This was horrifying: it was as if he was blind, there was _only_ darkness around him; and sure, he had the Force, but he would like to be able to actually see if something was going to attack him. 

Luke frowned, listening carefully--he’d never had to listen so much--but there was nothing now. Still, he got the sense that there was _something there..._

“Cassian?” Luke said nervously. 

“I’m right here,” Cassian said. He sounded a little annoyed. 

Oh. Luke turned red again. 

Then a light flicked on--Cassian was carrying some sort of lamp--and Luke released the breath he’d been holding. He’d never been so relieved to see...anything. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Cassian said. “I brought you down here for a reason.”

“Okay,” Luke said, trying not to sound uncertain. “What is it?”

“Turn around.” 

Luke did. Cassian swung the lamp up--and Luke’s mouth fell open. 

Projected on the wall in front of him was an image, several people frozen in time. He didn’t know any of them; but they seemed to all be important. The holo was very old, the quality bad, but Luke could tell that they held themselves regally. One of the women in particular...he seemed to know her from somewhere, but he couldn’t figure it out. It was the look in her eyes; so passionate, so determined. 

“These are the founders of the Rebellion,” Cassian said. Luke looked sideways at him; for the first time, Cassian actually looked happy. There was pride written all over his face--he worshipped these people, from the look of it, or at least respected them very highly. “Do you recognize any of them?”

Until now, Luke had only been looking at the woman in the center. But suddenly, he realized he recognized another of the women, with very short hair--

“Mothma!” he exclaimed. And then, slightly to her left: “And is that...is that Senator Organa?”

Cassian nodded. “And then, of course, Padme Amidala.” 

Luke did a double take. 

Never, _never_ before had he seen any image of his mother. He had been told about her; Obi-Wan never ceased to tell him stories about the great Senator and Queen. But images, for some reason, were difficult to come by; and Obi-Wan had never volunteered any himself. He’d been a hermit; he probably didn’t own any pictures at all. 

But this…

“When was this taken?” Luke asked. He could barely hear his own voice. 

“Hmm...I think a little over seventeen years ago,” came the reply. 

_Seventeen years ago._

This...this hadn’t been too long before...Luke was born. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to Amidala’s belly. He couldn’t see anything; but then he noticed that the robes she was wearing were _large,_ almost too large for a woman of her size. 

Almost too large. Luke smiled. That was relatable. 

So she’d been small too, just like he was. 

Luke couldn’t believe this. He’d _never_ seen any picture of his mother at _all--_ but now, even this picture didn’t tell him much about her. She was noble, determined...but that was about it. What had she wanted, back then? What had her dreams been? Her fears? 

Had she worried for Luke? What his future would be? 

_I wish I could know more._

_I wish I’d known her_ at all. 

Unbidden, tears sprang to his eyes, and Luke lowered his head. This was one of his greatest dreams come true, to know what his mother had looked like...but it was much, much sadder than he’d expected it to be. 

“You know her,” Cassian said. 

Luke nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said, wiping at his face. “She was my mother.” 

There was a horrible, horrible silence from Cassian, and suddenly Luke remembered that Obi-Wan had made him swear never to tell anyone who didn’t already know that Padme Amidala was his mother, because…

“Wait--what?” Cassian looked beyond shocked. “Are you telling me that she and _Anakin Skywalker--”_

 _“Don’t tell anyone!”_ Luke squeaked. “Please, please don’t tell anyone, no one’s supposed to know that!” 

Cassian crossed his arms. “So it _is_ true?”

“Yes, but--but please, I’ve been sworn to secrecy, it’s a really, really big deal and _no one can know,_ so _please--”_

“Of course I won’t,” Cassian said, sounding insulted. “Do I look like the kind of person who would do that?”

Luke suddenly remembered what Cassian did for the Rebellion. “Um...no.” 

“Exactly.” Cassian sighed. “But Senator Amidala was...your mother?”

“Yeah.” Fresh off the panic of the last thirty seconds, the air of sadness had vanished, and Luke was able to once again appreciate just how beautiful his mother was. “I...I didn’t know she was responsible for...starting the Rebellion.” 

“She was.” Cassian turned back to the holoimage. “She was one of the greatest defenders of truth, of justice, of _peace._ I have always respected her, and I--”

He stopped. 

Luke turned to look at him, confused. What was wrong? Cassian had suddenly gone white, as if he’d realized something. “What is it?”

“It’s...I…” Cassian sighed. “I haven’t treated you very well, Luke Skywalker. I misjudged you from the beginning--I thought you were too young. I wondered how you could _ever_ be Anakin Skywalker’s son; the stories say that he was so strong, so powerful, so determined, and you looked...well, for lack of a better word, soft. You were, maybe, a shadow of what he had been, and I didn’t think you could do anything for us at this age. And even after your supposed victory on Arorua--”

 _“Supposed?”_ Luke echoed. 

_“Let me talk!”_ Cassian took a deep breath. “So I thought that, yes. And after that, I didn’t believe you. I thought that Kenobi must have passed off his success as your own, or that if you had done it, it wasn’t as great as they were all saying--”

His gaze turned to Senator Amidala, then back to Luke. 

“But now I understand,” Cassian said softly. “You’re not only the son of Skywalker; you are Padme Amidala’s son as well, probably more like her, but now I feel...like I have insulted her, in not believing you. She’s been a role model for me since I joined the Rebellion, and I am _extremely_ sorry.” 

Luke stared at him. He’d never thought that he would ever have _this_ kind of conversation with Cassian Andor. It seemed too much to hope for--and frankly, he didn’t know what to say. 

But then he realized that there was still a problem with what Cassian was saying. He didn’t want the man to feel awful because of this...and there was something else, too. 

“Don’t feel sorry,” he said. “It’s okay. You didn’t know me, and I was probably over-eager, too. And…” He grimaced. “I didn’t go to Arorua just on Obi-Wan’s orders. I disobeyed him to do it.” 

A light of recognition came into Cassian’s eyes. “Do you think that _lowers_ my opinion of you, Luke Skywalker?”

Luke raised his eyebrows. So Cassian wasn’t so rigid as he’d thought. 

“But it’s all right,” he said. “You don’t need to worry--I forgive you.”

“Well, thank you. I don’t deserve it.” Cassian sighed. “And I promise I will not tell anyone about who your mother was.” 

“Okay.” Luke breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know why Obi-Wan doesn’t want anyone to know; he just doesn’t.” 

Cassian nodded. “Well, then...are we on good terms?”

“Of course,” Luke said, impulsively taking Cassian’s hand in his own. “On one condition.” 

Cassian frowned. “What?”

“Don’t judge me based on who my parents were,” Luke told him firmly. “Even if you respect both of them. I want to try to honor them...but I don’t want to be _exactly_ like them. When the time comes, I want people to know the Starling is Luke Skywalker, not ‘Anakin’s son’ or ‘Padme’s son.’”

Cassian nodded again. Then, he smiled. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking Luke’s hand. “Then, it’s nice to meet you, Luke Skywalker.” 

Luke smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too, Cassian Andor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, these next few chapters could be considered both filler and set-up; we're getting to Luke's next mission and the start of his real time as the Starling, but what needs to come first is Luke getting to know a lot of people in the Rebellion and I am very excited for it! This fic is intense soon but not at the present moment so I am vibing


	14. Wedge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets his official gear as the Starling; then, he gets to know one of the pilots a little bit better.

“So what does this mean, Cassian?” Luke asked him after a little while. They’d gotten to talking--about their respective pasts, and then he suddenly remembered he must be here for a reason. 

“Ah. That’s right.” Cassian looked slightly embarrassed. “I wanted to show you this as a preview of where you will be going.” 

_ “Going?”  _ Luke gaped at him. “I--I’m going somewhere? They’re sending me somewhere? For the Rebellion?” He couldn’t help himself; he let out a small whoop. “Obi-Wan got to the Council after all! I can’t wait to--”

“Stop,” Cassian said, sounding weary; Luke stopped immediately. Right, he needed to be serious. He was the Starling. 

But how was he supposed to be  _ serious _ when his greatest wish had finally come true?

“Sorry,” he said quickly. 

“Don’t apologize,” Cassian said, and--that had been the wrong thing to say, too. “Just...don’t ask questions yet. Can you just listen to me?”

Luke nodded, trying to give the impression that he was being serious. 

“All right.” Cassian cleared his throat. “You’ve shown to the Council that you’re willing to rescue people important to the Rebellion, and that you’re good at it; you’re unbelievably good at it.” 

“So--” Luke started, then remembered that he wasn’t supposed to talk yet. 

“Yes, we’re sending you to rescue someone,” Cassian said. “One of our best spies, Rilo Caris, was captured over Naboo, and is currently in custody in the Imperial base there. He is going to be executed, we think, in two weeks. Your job is to get him out and get him back as soon as possible.” 

Luke had a thousand and one burning questions after that, but he waited. He couldn’t tell if Cassian was done yet or not. 

“I’m done,” Cassian said, somewhat irritably. 

“Oh! Oh, okay. Okay. Hm.” Luke took a deep breath. “Well, it makes sense. But if we have two weeks, what’s the rush?”

“Skywalker,” Cassian said grimly, “I know you’re new here. But he’s a spy.” 

Luke tried to guess what that might mean; he couldn’t, and he frowned. “Uh...so? Ahsoka’s a former Jedi, and I don’t remember you rushing to her assistance.” He winced. “Sorry.” 

“No, I’m not fond of that decision either. But this is different, because he’s a spy, because…” Cassian sighed. “Because they’re going to interrogate him immediately. He...he knows quite a lot of information. Our position is in jeopardy.” 

Interrogation. Imperial interrogation. 

_ Torture,  _ he meant. Luke felt like he was going to be sick. 

“When…” He struggled to speak. “When was he captured?”

“Last night.” Cassian sighed. “Given everything that had happened with Ahsoka, we didn’t want to tell you until today. We didn’t even reach the decision to send you until very late last night.” 

“Oh.” Luke’s shoulders slumped. “Because...they...still don’t trust me.” 

“Not yet.” Cassian gripped his arm firmly. “But they  _ will.  _ What’s important right now is rescuing Caris before the Imps can get much out of him. Do you think you can do it?”

Luke would be going straight into Imperial territory, that much was obvious. But...the thought of a man being so terribly tortured, by people without mercy…

And wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

“Yes,” he said, setting his jaw. “I can do it.” 

“Well, then.” Cassian let go of him and walked further into the cellar. “We need to get you several things.” 

“Several things?” Luke hurried after him; he didn’t want to be left in the dark again. “Like...like what?”

Cassian sighed again. Luke felt bad; Cassian seemed to do that a lot around him. 

“Since you seem so curious,” he muttered, before shaking his head. “Gadgets. A uniform. Other things.” 

“But why?” Luke felt that maybe he should stop asking questions, but he really couldn’t help himself. “Why do I--ah!” 

Cassian had grabbed his arm and pulled him into a darkened room. They stood there for several seconds, and then he flicked on a light. 

Luke gasped. 

They were standing in a long room. Along the walls hung various kinds of clothing; on the tables was arranged a multitude of gadgets; and behind the clothes, Luke could just make out an array of weapons. 

“Alright.” Cassian actually smiled, for once. “Let’s get started.” 

  
  


It was the most fun Luke could remember having in his life. For what must have been hours, he searched through the gadgets and tried on multiple kinds of clothing, and tested out various weapons. 

“Why do I need more weapons?” he asked at some point. “I have a lightsaber.” 

Cassian snorted. “Do you really think you want to depend on that? That’s your ace in the hole, your trump card. And you may find yourself in situations where a lightsaber will not help you.” 

So Luke rifled through the weapons, and ultimately found several that he liked: spiked gloves, an advanced Mandalorian blaster, and a type of explosive that sent distracting gas into an opponent’s face. 

But his favorite was a short sword, almost a dagger--and the blade was made of pure obsidian. 

Cassian approved of it. 

“You have good taste,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to use that much, but it will complement your lightsaber well--in times of quick escape, it might be better to use it than to draw your Jedi’s weapon.” He winked. “It also happens to be a throwing dagger.” 

Then they moved onto gadgets. 

Luke was not allowed freedom of choice in this area; Cassian picked everything out for him. This, the older man explained, was because this was not a matter of personal taste. These gadgets were made to help him survive, and Luke didn’t argue with him on that point. 

And at last, after Cassian had groaned and agonized over every choice, Luke was equipped with a rope, several bugs to be placed on the wall(so that he could listen to what others were saying), four glowlamps to help him in dark places, and most important: a chip that would be placed in his shoulder, so that the Alliance could track him. 

That last one Luke wasn’t so sure about. The idea that he could be followed at any moment, that everyone would always know where he was...

“It may make you feel strange,” Cassian said, “but we can’t lose you. You’re the Starling.” 

“Okay,” Luke said uncertainly. 

Cassian sighed. “It might be uncomfortable to think about. But imagine that you are captured, just like Caris. That you, the  _ Starling,  _ are captured by the  _ Empire,  _ who at this present moment wants you dead in the most gruesome way possible. The only way that we will be able to find and rescue you before you die is by that chip. Do you understand?”

Luke nodded. He was beginning to be a little afraid of what exactly was being asked of him. 

That said, he still wasn’t thrilled about having a tracking chip in his shoulder. 

After that, they moved on to clothing; and that part, Luke still didn’t completely understand. 

“Why a specific uniform?” he asked. “Can’t I just dress all in black or something?”

“The point is not to hide you,” Cassian said. “The point is that while you are carrying out these missions, you will be a symbol. The Council wants you to strike fear in the heart of the Empire.” 

“Well, good,” Luke said. “That’s what I want, too.” 

Cassian shot him a grin, and they set to work. 

Luke tried on multiple articles of clothing, more than he’d ever seen in his life. However, within the first few minutes, they both became aware of one glaring problem, one that even Cassian hadn’t anticipated: almost all of the clothing was too big for Luke. 

“What are you even eating?” Cassian demanded after the fourteenth shirt sagged around Luke’s waist. “Do you eat  _ anything?” _

“Of course I eat,” Luke snapped. This fitting process was turning out to be very embarrassing for him; he’d been self-conscious of his height all his life, and while it came in handy when sneaking into small spaces to prank Obi-Wan, he didn’t like being reminded of it. “I was just born a little on the small side, okay?”

“Okay, well…” Cassian scratched his head. “We need to find you a uniform.” 

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Luke noticed something that caught his eye. It was a long, blue tunic; not too bright, not too noticeable, but noticeable  _ enough.  _ Hanging at its side was a pair of trousers, and a long, silver cloak. 

“What about that?” he asked. “That looks like it might fit me.” 

“That?” Cassian shook his head. “No, no, that shouldn’t even be hanging here. It’s an artefact. It’s actually reserved for--”

Then he stopped, stared at Luke, and seemed to reconsider. 

“You know what?” he said quietly, as if to himself. “That just might work.” 

“What?” Luke wanted to know--the suspense was killing him. “What is it? Why might it work?”

“It is the military uniform,” Cassian said, “that, during the days of the Republic, was worn by princes of the Naberrie line.” He smiled. “Want to try it on?”

Luke returned the smile, so wide that his face hurt, but he didn’t care. There were so, so many traces of his mother here; he couldn’t believe it. It felt like a dream. 

“You bet I do,” he said. 

  
  


Luke tried on the uniform, with the utmost care; he didn’t want to ruin something that belonged to his mother’s line. 

It fit perfectly. 

Cassian looked Luke up and down; and then, surprisingly, he whistled. 

“Well, well,” he said. “Don’t you look sharp, Skywalker.” 

Luke blushed. He’d never had reason to care much about his appearance before; he didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything. 

“Now,” Cassian said, “for the last part of preparing you...come with me.” 

“Come with you?” Luke frowned. “Do I have to change back? Where are we going?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, “please change. That’s to be reserved for missions only. And to answer your question, we’re going to get you a ship of your own.” 

He said it so casually. As if it wasn’t  _ Luke’s only wish and goal in the entire world.  _

“A--” Luke’s mouth opened and shut several times. “A--a sh, a--a--of my--a  _ ship-- _ I get a-- _ what?”  _

Cassian laughed. “Kenobi said you’d be happy.” 

Luke wanted to see Obi-Wan; he wanted to see him more than anything in the world, wanted to give him a hug and maybe make him tea and do everything else to show how grateful he was. Obi-Wan  _ knew  _ how badly Luke wanted to fly, of course he did; and instead of being worried about Luke, instead of trying to hold him back…

He wanted to give Luke his heart’s desire. 

“Skywalker,” Cassian said, sounding slightly awkward, and Luke realized he was crying. “Is...everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, wiping vigorously at his eyes. “Yeah, it’s more than all right.” He grinned. “I’m ready to pick out my ship.” 

  
  


It was surreal, to walk across to the docking bay, and to  _ not  _ be a mechanic. To be the Starling, and…

And to be a  _ pilot.  _

This time, Luke didn’t hate the way people turned to look at him; because, in light of his new gift, it meant that the other pilots knew he’d be joining him. It meant they would treat him with respect, that he’d be  _ one of them.  _ It meant--

“Hey,” said a very, very familiar voice, and Luke froze. “Nice to meet you.” 

A boy about his own age, dressed in a flightsuit, stood looking at him, and...and it was the very same pilot Luke had shouted at over the comms. The pilot who had tried to stop him and Numa from landing on Arorua. 

“Wait a minute,” Luke said, feigning surprise, “you’re a kid!” 

The pilot’s eyes blew wide. His jaw dropped. Luke had, after all, just repeated the same words  _ he  _ had said over Arorua. 

“What the--” The pilot looked wildly between Luke and Cassian. “He’s the--you’re the--that’s--what the hell, what the hell did I--”

Luke decided he’d had his fun. The pilot was obviously horrified that he had tried to stop the Starling from landing on Arorua and, therefore, saving Ahsoka Tano’s life; on Luke’s part, there were no hard feelings. 

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “Yeah, I’m the Starling, and I--I’m sorry for making you disobey orders. Not sorry I got through, obviously, since otherwise Ahsoka would be dead, but I wish I hadn’t had to be so demanding.” 

_ “You’re  _ sorry?” the pilot echoed, but he looked distinctly less on edge now. “Well, I hope I can make up for our first meeting by helping you pick out your own ship, Starling.” 

Luke winced. 

“Call me Luke,” he said. He knew that not everyone could know his real name, but he hoped such a gesture of trust would make the pilot feel less afraid; he didn’t want people to be afraid of him. “Luke Skywalker.” 

“Well, then.” The pilot held out a hand. “Wedge Antilles.” 

Cassian smiled at them. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

He walked away, leaving Luke and Wedge Antilles alone. 

“Well, I…” Wedge scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should apologize, for--”

“You already did,” Luke told him. “And I forgive you for it, so stop apologizing.” 

“Um…” Wedge looked uncomfortable; Luke wondered if he wanted to keep on apologizing. “All right. Well, then, Luke...why don’t we look at some ships?”

Luke smiled. “Sure thing.” 

  
  


Wedge took Luke on a tour of the docking bay, and multiple times, Luke had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t actually dreaming. He’d been through here dozens of times--he’d worked on all these ships himself. But this time, he’d actually be  _ flying  _ one of them. 

As they passed one of the ships, Wedge tapped it affectionately.

“This one’s mine,” he said. “I’m Red Two.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t fly it right now.” 

Luke frowned. “Why not?”

“My laser cannons aren’t functioning right,” Wedge said, shaking his head. “Without them, I’m a hazard in battle; there won’t be a guarantee that I can help when I’m needed. I have to wait until I can get them fixed, but no one has been able to help. Anything they do just makes it worse.” 

“That’s because it’s probably not just the laser cannons,” Luke said. “For the laser cannons to function correctly, the S-foils have to be working.” 

“Yeah, that’s not it, kid,” Wedge said. “I know all that. Besides, my S-foils are locking fine--”

“That’s not the problem,” Luke babbled on before he could stop himself. “The S-foils don’t just control the angle the laser cannons are firing from. They also control the stabilizing system as well as heat dispersion. So what’s probably happening is that since the S-foils aren’t functioning in that way, the laser cannons are overheating. So what someone would need to do is go in and rewire the S-foils, and then--”

He stopped. Wedge was staring at him. 

“Oh,” he stammered, “sorry, I said too much again--”

“No,” Wedge said, eyes wide, “it’s not that, it is  _ not  _ too much, you--” He crossed his arms. “You’re a mechanic.” 

“I  _ was,”  _ Luke said, feeling a little insulted. “I wasn’t allowed to fly before now.”

“But--but you can’t just fly,” Wedge said; he looked absolutely amazed. Luke had never had anyone...look at him like that before, at least anyone who wasn’t Obi-Wan. “You also know how to work these things, like--like you know  _ how they work.”  _

“Yeah,” Luke said, “so...what are you--”

“I’m running a risk here,” Wedge said. “The newer starfighters are supposed to be off-limits, but...if you take a look at your ship, I’ll let you pick anything you want. Anything.” He pointed to the ship Luke had seen upon entering the docking bay: it was a beautiful fighter, painted yellow, and it was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. “Even that one.” 

Luke didn’t believe it. His luck was off the charts. 

“Okay,” he said. “Sure thing! I just--can I just--”

He couldn’t articulate what exactly it was he wanted; just in case he wasn’t allowed to look at the ship yet, he didn’t want to make any assumptions. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” Wedge said. “Just don’t fly it yet; we have to get this cleared to begin with.” 

Luke was sure it would look ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He ran across to the starfighter and stopped, taking it in. The ship was bright yellow. It was sleek, new, and clean, and--and best of all, he could  _ smell  _ the parts, smell the new oil it had just been filled with. 

He closed his eyes and smiled, breathing it in. 

This was his ship.  _ His.  _

After a few minutes, he felt a hand on his arm. It was Wedge. 

“So,” said the pilot, “you like it?”

“You bet I do,” Luke said--but he could see the jealousy on Wedge’s face(or else he could sense it). It was obvious that Wedge had been a pilot for a long time, but...he hadn’t really gotten a new ship. Biggs hadn’t, either; he’d complained to Luke about it before. 

And suddenly, Luke didn’t care how much it went against the rules. 

He knew what he had to do. 

“Hey,” he said, “I’ll fix up your ship, I promise. But…” He looked around at all the other new, gorgeous starfighters. “Why don’t we try to get you one of these?”

“Gee, I…” Wedge sighed. “You don’t get it. We’d have to speak to the Council.” 

Well. The Council had given him a uniform, a knife, stun grenades, and the starfighter of his choice. What was a little more? 

“I know pretty much everyone on the Council,” Luke said. “I’m sure I could get it done.” 

“Really?” Wedge’s face lit up--and for that, it was definitely worth it. “You could do that?”

“Sure thing, Wedge.” Luke smiled. “We may have gotten off to a rough start, but...I like you.” 

“I like you, too, Luke. I like you a lot.” Wedge looked up at the ship. “What are you going to name her?”

“Name her?” Luke frowned. “I don’t know.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence. Luke didn’t know what to say, so he ran his hand over the ship again. It was so,  _ so  _ beautiful, and Wedge was going to get it for him, it was going to be his to fly…

His  _ own ship-- _

“Well, Luke,” said a voice behind him, “do you like it?”

Luke spun around. Obi-Wan was standing there. 

“Do I--” Luke gaped at him; and then, not caring what Wedge might have thought, he did what he’d been wanting to do all day and threw his arms around Obi-Wan. “I  _ love  _ it.” 

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan chuckled, pushing him back after several seconds. He frowned at Wedge. “And who’s this?”

“This is Wedge,” Luke said, beaming at Wedge. He was the second pilot Luke had gotten to know well, besides Biggs, and…

Wait a minute. 

“Obi-Wan,” Luke said, “I have a question.” 

“And I have an answer,” Obi-Wan quipped. “What is it?”

“Wedge’s ship isn’t in great condition,” Luke said. “Biggs’ isn’t either; and I only have the  _ first  _ of these new ships--”

“Luke.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “The Council has very graciously allowed you these things.” 

“And I’m very graciously agreeing to go on missions into the heart of the Empire,” Luke said. He hated manipulating Obi-Wan, but...in this particular situation, maybe he could appeal to his master’s extreme concern for him. “Wouldn’t you feel better if I had an entire squadron at my side?”

Obi-Wan stared at Luke for a long time; Luke thought for certain that Obi-Wan would say no. This was quite a large request, after all. 

But then, Obi-Wan sighed. That was a yes, but Luke couldn’t push anymore. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. 

“Thanks!” Luke grinned. "Then what's next?"  


"Next, you come with me," Obi-Wan said. "We'll need to get this ship approved before you can fly it; and after that, Captain Rex and Ahsoka Tano want to see you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this section is a complete and total focus on Luke but I AM NOT SORRY


End file.
